


See You Again, Space Cowboy

by Luck_Kazajian



Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: Acceptance, Gen, Grief, One Interpretation of the End, Red Dragon Syndicate, Redemption, Self-Acceptance, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2019-11-07 14:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 84,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17961917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luck_Kazajian/pseuds/Luck_Kazajian
Summary: It's been fifteen years since Spike Spiegel destroyed the Red Dragon Syndicate. Fifteen years of dealing with the fact that he didn't come back to them. So when Faye gets word of a curly-headed Cowboy on Mars, she coerces Jet into investigating. But what she finds isn't what anybody was expecting. The Red Dragon Syndicate's back and their new leader wants only one thing - revenge. And this time the Red Dragon isn't giving up until Spiegel is dead for real. Forced to confront the ghosts of the past, the Bebop crew must decide exactly how far they're willing to go to save their own.





	1. Session One

Leon Riley shoved his hands deep in his pockets and breathed a long, slow breath. He’d lost another bountyhead--of course he had. He’d lost the past three bountyheads he’d followed. Leon cursed under his breath and slouched onto a nearby bench. His newfound seat gave him a lovely view of the harbor, but Leon propped his feet up on the safety rail and stared at his boots instead. He pulled a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, lit the cigarette with a quick flick of his thumb, and took a long draw. He let the smoke escape his mouth and nose as he tipped his head back and stared at the sky between unruly locks of shaggy brown hair. Behind him and just out of his field of vision, the second story of the pier rose up. He could hear people above him oohing and aahing at the view. He frowned. Being a cowboy sucked. Being a kid sucked even more. Although he was nineteen, technically legal on all planets, he still found himself limited by lack of experience and equipment. He’d lost his latest bountyhead to an older hunter with more lucrative connections and a way faster ship. Just like he’d lost the other bounties to men and women with more money, more connections, and bigger ships. How did you even build all those resources if you could never catch anyone anyway?

He blew smoke and stared at the clouds hoping he might find an answer. It wasn’t that he was bad at hunting bounties. In fact, he was quite good at it. The only problem was, he was so good that the older cowboys let him do all the legwork on a bounty then swooped in at the last minute and swiped it right from under his nose. He’d even taken a shot for this last bounty--Leon rubbed his left shoulder absently where he had a bandage tucked under his shirt. The bullet only grazed him, but still, he was proud of his first real wound. Until the other guy stole his bounty that is.

He took another drag on the cigarette and contemplated the very large and very lonely zero that sat in his bank account right now. If he didn’t land a bounty soon, he’d be hard-pressed just to survive. He had enough supplies and fuel for his ship now, but she wouldn’t last forever. She wasn’t big enough for extended space travel without being docked on a bigger ship. And he sure wasn’t going to ask these older cowboys for a leg up. Not after they stole his bountyheads. He needed a local job.

Leon stuck his cigarette in his teeth and stood up. He raised his arms over his head, stretching his lanky six-foot frame, wincing only a little as the muscles in his shoulder protested. The edges of his long trench coat blew back in the slight breeze off the water. Well, he wasn’t going to find a job sitting here on this bench. If he wanted to bring in a bounty, he’d just have to get the jump on the other cowboys. And that meant no rest for the weary. He sighed and started walking.

“Spike!” he heard a woman yell behind him. “Hey Spike! Wait!”

Leon looked around. There were a few other people on the pier with him, but none of them appeared to respond to the name Spike. In fact, most of them were looking at him, as if expecting him to answer. Well, his name wasn’t Spike. He shrugged and kept walking.

“Don’t you walk away from me, you lunkhead!” the woman yelled. “Not again!”

Leon stopped this time and looked around again. More people gave him curious looks. He turned and looked behind him. A woman with short black hair and a garish yellow outfit topped with a red coat was waving and running toward him. Leon’s eyes widened in surprise and he started as he realized she was running straight for him.

_Damn, it can’t be creditors, not yet. Can it? Nah, too early for that. Someone from a bounty, maybe? Another cowboy?_

Leon didn’t recognize the woman. But whoever she was, she obviously thought he was Spike. And she sounded angry. Either way, he didn’t really want to stick around and find out. So he turned and started walking away again.

“Spike Spiegel, you get back here!”

“Who the hell is Spike Spiegel?” Leon muttered under his breath as he looked over his shoulder. The woman was gaining on him. He broke into a run. She ran faster. Why was she running him down like he was her bounty?

Maybe she thought he was her bounty. Maybe she was a cowboy and this Spike person was her bountyhead. Leon laughed and slowed down. If that was the case, all he had to do was convince her he wasn’t Spike. Then maybe he could join her hunt for the guy and make some woolongs in the process. Yeah, that was it.

He was about to turn around again when a hand descended on his shoulder. He was spun sharply to face the black-haired woman just as she delivered a ringing punch to his jaw. Caught off guard, he took the punch full in the face and went down like a sack of potatoes. He lost his cigarette and it rolled a few feet away, smouldering. Leon sat on the pavement, legs outstretched, leaning on his hands.

When the stars cleared enough that he could think straight, he looked up at the woman.

“Hey, lady, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded at the same time she exclaimed, “You’re not Spike!”

“Of course I’m not!” he said hotly, rubbing his jaw. “Why’d you go and hit me like that?”

The woman knelt in front of him, looking puzzled. She leaned close, scrutinizing his face. “Because if you were him, you’d deserve it,” she said absently as she stared closely at his right eye.

“Um.” Leon leaned back so that the woman wasn’t in his face. She leaned forward some more, hands braced between Leon’s legs. She was so close he could clearly see her green eyes and smell her perfume--something exotic and subtle.

“Damn,” she muttered. “You really aren’t him.”

“I tried to tell you,” he said. “Who is this Spike guy anyway? Some kind of bountyhead?”

The woman gave him a closer look. Spatial proximity didn’t seem to phase her. “You’re a cowboy?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

“Well, yes. But Spike’s no bountyhead. He was...is...a cowboy too.”

Leon caught her stumble. The woman didn’t sound so sure that Spike was even alive. Perhaps that’s why she was so eager to believe he was Spike.

“You got a rivalry or something?” he asked.

The woman shook her head. “No! At least, not like what you’re thinking. We were partners a while back, but I--he disappeared. I haven’t seen him in fifteen years. And you look so much like him, I thought...maybe,” she trailed off.

“Maybe I was him?” Leon finished. The subject was obviously a touchy one. By the sound of it, this Spike guy had walked out on his lady friend and she still hadn’t forgiven him for it.

“So, he left you, huh?” Leon asked, cautiously leaning away from the woman, in case he brought up painful memories and she decided to punch him again.

But she stood up instead. “Something like that,” she said, looking out over the harbor. “Here,” she looked back at him and held out a hand. “Up you go.”

He took the offered hand and let her haul him to his feet.

“Sorry for slugging you. The name’s Faye. Faye Valentine.” She held out her hand for a handshake.

He shook. “It’s alright, it’s not like I need my jaw or anything.” He grinned to show her he was joking.

“God, your sense of humor is just like his too. You sure you aren’t related to Spike or something?” She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward again, scrutinizing him a second time.

Leon held his hands up. “I don’t know any Spikes, I swear!”

Faye straightened up. “I believe you,” she said slowly. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Leon Ri--”

Before he could finish, Faye's eyes widened and she tackled him, knocking him off his feet for a second time. He heard a gunshot.

“Get down! Syndicate!” Faye hissed as a bullet whizzed overhead where Leon had been standing a moment before. People on the pier screamed, running for the nearest hiding spot. Leon heard running feet advancing down the pier.

“It's not exactly like I could get up in this position," Leon grumbled as Faye's elbow dug painfully into his ribcage. His shoulder throbbed.

Faye rolled her eyes and rolled off him, drawing her Glock. She grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. “C’mon, there’s no time for talk!” She let off a few shots of her own as Leon drew his pistol.

“You know how to use that?” she asked as she pulled him behind a concrete pillar supporting the upper level of the pier.

“I’m a cowboy, of course I know how to use it!” Leon huffed. “But, uh, just a minute ago, did you say Syndicate?”

“Yes,” she said, leaning around the pillar. She jerked back as a shot whizzed past. Leon leaned around his side of the pillar and saw four men in long black coats with gold trim walking down the pier. They were Syndicate alright. They were spread just far enough apart that they covered the pier, but just close enough that trying to make a break between them would be near impossible. They used benches, trash barrels, light poles, and civilians as shields as they advanced.

“Why is the Syndicate after you?” Leon asked, ducking back into cover as another bullet chipped the pillar by his head. A shard of concrete cut his cheek. Leon winced.

“After me?” Faye glared at him. “They’re not after me. They’re after you. They think you’re Spike.”

“Why does everybody think I’m Spike?”

“I told you, you look just like him. Now stop gabbing and make yourself useful. We need to get out of here.”

Leon had a million more questions, but he shut up and looked around his side of the pillar again. He took careful aim at the closest Syndicate member and squeezed off a few shots. The man dodged and ducked behind a nearby trash can.  
“Well, we’re not going back up the pier,” Leon said, taking aim and shooting at another Syndicate member. This one flinched as the bullet grazed his arm. Faye leaned around the pillar and took a shot. Another Syndicate member went down clutching his leg.

“Maybe not up the pier,” Faye said, looking around. “But we can go up,” she pointed to a ladder a few feet away leading to the pier’s second level.

Leon nodded. “I’ll provide you cover, go on.”

She looked like she might argue for a minute, then she turned and climbed the ladder. Leon took another shot at a Syndicate man, shattering his glasses. Blood blossomed on the side of his face as he staggered back. Leon ducked back behind the pillar and made a break for the ladder. He climbed it like his life depended on it, and scrambled up right behind Faye.There was a door farther down this second level of the pier. It lead to a staircase back down to the first level. If they took the staircase, they’d come out behind the Syndicate men, and closer to a chance of escape. Faye and Leon seemed to reach the conclusion simultaneously and both ran for the stairs.

Just then the door to the stairs burst open and three more Syndicate men flooded out, pistols drawn.

“We’ve got you now, Spike Spiegel!” one of them yelled.

“I’m not Spike Spiegel!” Leon said, feeling increasingly exasperated.

“Nice try, Spike,” growled another Syndicate man. “But you know you can’t pull that trick on us. The Syndicate might be rebuilt, but we’re not all new. Some of us remember you.”

“Great. Nice to make your acquaintance too,” Leon muttered. Out loud he said, “Do none of you realize I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“You can’t pretend you’ve lost your memory on us,” the first man sneered and brought his pistol up. He shot at Leon. Leon threw himself to the side and rolled behind a nearby lamp post. The post had a wide concrete bottom, providing just enough cover to get himself out of harm’s way. Faye had done the same thing on the other side of the pier. The Syndicate men walked forward.

“We’ve got the pier surrounded, Spike. There’s no way out of this. Give up now, and we might go easy on you.”

“Hah!” Leon chuckled. “I might be young but I’m not crazy. You guys are Syndicate. There is no easy.”

He heard the men stop. He checked his gun. He still had almost a full clip. He pressed his back against the light post, tensing his legs, ready to spring into action.

“What does he mean by young?” he heard one of the men ask in an undertone.

“I don’t know,” he heard the other guy say. “But that is Spike Spiegel. I’d stake my life on it.”

“You’d better be damn sure or you just might,” the third man said. He sounded older than the other two. “You ever see that devil with your own two eyes?”

“Yeah, of course I did. I was there at the coup.”

Leon looked over at Faye while the Syndicate men were busy talking. They were in no hurry--it’s not like Leon and Faye had anywhere to go. As long as they blocked the stairs to the first level, Faye and Leon were trapped. Leon looked over at the ladder they’d climbed up, just in time to see a man’s head and shoulders emerge. Leon didn’t wait for anything past the black and gold lapel. He shot. So did Faye. The man slipped and fell below the ledge. Leon heard yelling as he hit some of his buddies below.  
The shots galvanized the men on the second level into action. They ran forward, two to Leon’s light post, one to Faye’s. Leon stood, turned, and shot the first guy who rounded the corner in the knee. The man fell with a strangled shout, but he didn’t lose his grip on his gun. Leon stomped down on the man’s fingers. The man howled and let go. Leon kicked his gun over the edge of the ledge and turned just in time to see the older Syndicate member, one with steel grey hair and matching eyes, aim his gun at him. Leon ducked instinctively but he knew there was no way he could dodge a bullet at this range. A second later he heard the report of the gun and a bullet scored his other cheek. He hissed in pain as hot blood dripped down his face. The Syndicate man had missed on purpose. There wasn't any other way to explain it. But if that was true...then what was the Syndicate man up to? Leon wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve and shot back.

The Syndicate man’s pistol flew out of his hands. He didn’t try to go after it, but instead closed the distance between himself and Leon faster than Leon could blink. He grabbed Leon’s gun hand and twisted it, pointing the gun away from himself. Leon grit his teeth and tried to hang onto the gun, but the man pressed his fingers into Leon’s wrist and his hand went numb. With a shout of surprise, he dropped his pistol. The man kicked it away. Leon watched as it skittered to the edge of the second level, teetering precariously. But he didn’t have time to go after it. Leon realized too late he should have been watching the man and not his pistol.

The man pulled Leon closer and neatly decked him with another punch on the jaw, in the same place Faye hit him earlier. Only the man hit harder, Leon thought as his ears rang and he staggered. He briefly saw stars, but managed to keep his feet this time, only thanks to the man still gripping his hand. He yanked his hand away. The man let him. Leon grimaced as his heart beat a heavy tattoo in his chest. The man was toying with him.

“What do you want with me?” he asked, taking up a fighting stance.

“You know very well what we want with you, Spiegel. You killed the Red Dragon fifteen years ago. But the Dragon grew her fangs back.”

Leon tried to throw a punch. The man easily dodged. “Do I look old enough to kill anything fifteen years ago?” he demanded, lashing out with his foot at the same time. This time, he caught the man, but the man countered him, instead of sprawling on his back like Leon intended.

The man looked at him from slanted eyes. “That bastard,” the man swore. “Then he smiled. “You are clever, hiding in your father’s shadow.” He lashed out again and this time Leon blocked him, deflecting the man’s blow off to one side. His right hand tingled painfully. He flexed it but couldn't feel his fingers.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Leon demanded angrily, raining a series of blows on the man. “I never knew my father. I grew up in an orphanage.”

“Of course you did,” the man calmly deflected Leon’s angry blows. “That’s how they protected you.”

“Who?” Leon was panting now.

“Your parents, of course.” The man threw an precise punch at Leon’s gut. Leon brought his arm up to stop it, but he was too slow. He took the punch hard, losing his breath and doubling up.

“I suppose if we can’t have Spike, we’ll take the next best thing,” the man said, sliding a knife out of his pocket and flicking the blade out. Leon dropped to the ground and rolled out of the man’s reach, towards his pistol. The man followed like a bird of prey.

Leon stood up, wincing as his stomach protested, and found himself back to back with Faye, who was also fist-fighting her opponent at this point.

“How you holding up, kid?” she asked.

Leon watched his Syndicate man warily, holding his arms in front of his torso. Taking a punch was one thing, but a knife was entirely different. “I’m...holding,” he said, gasping a little. “Faye, we gotta get out of here.” He glanced balefully at his pistol which was still too far out of reach.

“I’m working on it,” she said. “Just give me two more minutes.”

“Two minutes?” Leon groaned, tucked his head, and rushed his opponent. The man was caught off guard and paused for a second or two in surprise. Leon took the opportunity to land a solid two punches. He wished he knew the crazy numbing trick the man used on him. But Leon’s only teacher was back alley street fights. He knew nothing about finesse. He did know, however, that he needed to keep the blade well away from himself. He reigned several fast but sloppy punches on the man, hoping that sheer speed alone might overwhelm him. While one or two landed, they didn’t land with enough force to do serious damage.

“Precision over speed, boy,” the man said, like he was Leon’s teacher. He pressed the knife toward Leon and Leon let up his punches to grab the man’s knife hand and concentrate on keeping the blade away from his face. While Leon was an inch or two taller than his opponent, he was lighter and less experienced. He cursed his youth again. Why was he always getting into fights with veterans?

The man suddenly swept Leon’s feet out from under him. Leon shouted and fell, gravity pulling the knife closer to him. He let go of the man’s hand and crashed ungracefully onto the concrete. He managed to tuck his head up at the last second, but he felt his injured shoulder complain.The man swooped down on him. Leon rocked back and lashed out with both feet, catching the man squarely in the chest. This time it was the man’s turn to grunt and stagger back. Leon levered himself to his feet, breathing hard.

“Faye,” he called over his shoulder as he backed away from the man.

“15 seconds,” she yelled back.

“15 seconds better hurry the hell up!” Leon shouted, as he dodged a swipe of the knife.

The man grinned. “You’re not half-bad, kid,” he said. “It’s a shame I’m under orders to subdue you.”

“Well, really,” Leon dodged again and tried to kick the man. The man danced away. “You don’t have to hurt me,” he said, ducking another blow and coming up under the swing of the knife with a punch. The man stopped his fist by grabbing it. Leon shuddered at the impact. “You only have to get Spike, right?” he saw the knife descend out of the corner of his eye and grabbed the man’s knife hand again. “And I’m not Spike.”

“That’s one thing we agree on,” the man said as the two grappled for control, locked against each other.

“Then why are you trying to kill me?” Leon demanded.

“Leon, let’s go!” Faye yelled.

“I’m a little preoccupied right now!” he yelled back.

“We don’t have time for that!” she snapped.

Leon grunted and did the only thing he could think of. He lunged forward and head-butted the man square in the nose. Leon heard a distinctive crack as he felt the impact on his own skull. The man growled and staggered back, releasing Leon to put a hand up to his face, where blood now welled from his crooked nose.

“C’mon, Leon, let’s go!” Faye grabbed him by the back of his coat and dragged him to the edge of the pier. The Syndicate man Leon shot earlier was starting to crawl towards them and he thought he saw another head pop up above the ladder. The stairway door burst open and more Syndicate men spilled onto the pier.

“Where are we going, Faye?” Leon asked, feeling an increasing sense of panic. They were trapped.

“When I say three, jump,” she said.

“Jump?” he asked. “Are you crazy?” She was still holding onto his coat.

“Probably. One,” she said.

Leon broke free and made a desperate scrabble for his pistol.

“Two.”

He grabbed his pistol and she grabbed his coat again.

“Three!” she shouted as she jumped off the edge of the pier, yanking Leon with her. His stomach flipped as they went into free fall. He heard gunshots behind them and bullets whizzed past as the Syndicate men on the pier shot at them.

“Faaayyyeee!” Leon shouted. The choppy harbor water loomed up quickly. They were going to smack straight into it. And then, suddenly, a ship showed up out of nowhere, an old Hammerhead, and flew level with them, sweeping them up on its long-nosed deck. Leon lost his breath as he collided with the deck and everything went fuzzy.

* * *

 

He blinked a few times. He was lying on the front of a ship, face pressed uncomfortably into the deck as they zoomed over the harbor. He sat up and rubbed his head. He hurt, but he was all in one piece and there wasn’t any metal lodged in him so he counted it a good day. A shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Faye standing over him, hands on her hips, a small grin riding her lips.

“We made it didn’t we?” she shot back.

“Yeah.” He stood up, rubbing his shoulder.

She looked at him closely. “Is your face ok?”

“My face?”

“Yeah, looks like you got hit a few times.”

“Are you referring to this?” He gestured to his jaw. “Or these?” He ran a finger over the gashes on his cheeks. The blood was mostly dried now.

Faye glared at him.

“They’re not serious,” he shrugged. He flexed his right hand experimentally.

“Did you hurt your hand too?” she asked.

“No, the guy up there did something weird with my nerves, I guess. He made my hand go numb.”

Faye’s eyes widened. “Is it still numb?”

“A little,” Leon said, trying to make a fist. He couldn’t close his hand all the way. “Damn,” he muttered. Then he looked around. “So, where are we?” he asked.

“On Jet’s Hammerhead.”

“Who’s Jet?”

“One of my partners,” Faye smiled.

Leon looked up at the cockpit to see a stern older man with a mechanical arm piloting the ship. He was staring at Leon like he had seen a ghost. Leon shivered. Then Jet shook his head, frowning, and gestured for the two on the nose to get down.

“Uh, I think he wants us to sit down,” Leon said, noticing the hard tug of the wind on his clothes and hair.

“Jet always wants everybody to do something,” Faye said, sounding bored.

Just then the ship shuddered, the nose dipping forward. Faye and Leon were both thrown to their knees. The ship leveled out and flew smoothly again. Faye looked up at the cockpit and stuck her tongue out. Jet looked smug.

“Told you,” Leon said.

Faye just shrugged, but she stayed sitting down.

“So, where are we going?” Leon asked.

“The Bebop,” Faye said.

“Is that your ship?”

“Well, technically, it’s his ship,” she jerked a thumb at Jet. “But it’s our base of operations.”

Leon nodded and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his elbows on them. He stared up at the sky and ran a hand through his hair. This day could hardly get any crazier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go, my first story over here on the Archive. Let me know what you think! Although the story is written in it's entirety already, feel free to leave suggestions or comments. You might spark an edit along the way ;) And, if you're taking the time to read my ramblings, thanks.


	2. Session Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we dive too deeply into the story, I want to make a note on the timeline. I started writing this story after watching Cowboy Bebop, so most of my dates come from the show and/or the Cowboy Bebop wiki. I found the show a little vague on dates, but maybe I just wasn't paying close attention. I've tried to keep as true to dates as I can, but I've found some conflicting dates in my "research" so some of this might not be completely canon. Also, I can't remember if it is ever explicitly mentioned in the show or not, but I was under the impression that Julia was a part of the Red Dragon Syndicate (I've read fanfictions that deal with her both as being a part of it and as just being associated with Vicious and Spike), but I'm working under the assumption that she was part of the Syndicate herself.
> 
> And, lastly...this is where we meet an adult Ed ;) I played around with how to write her for quite a while, debating how much of her antics to keep. In the end, I think I found a balance.

"Faye Faye found Spike person! Say hi, Ein!" Leon jumped back as a red-headed girl a few years older than himself suddenly appeared in front of him, dangling upside down from the claw arm on the  _Hammerhead'_ s nose. She held a wriggling Corgi in her arms, also upside down, and was waving one of its front paws.

The girl wore black shorts and a white crop top that hung lose around her shoulders, revealing a black sports bra. A pair of goggles hung around her neck. "Wait a minute," the girl said, scratching her chin and swinging closer to Leon. "You're not Spike person! You're too young." She pouted. "Faye Faye, you found the wrong person," she accused, pointing a finger at Faye.

"Nice to see you too, Ed," Faye said, hopping off the  _Hammerhead._ Jet had landed the ship in the hangar of the much larger  _Bebop._ "But you can hardly blame me when I followed intel Jet gave me."

"Ed?" Leon asked the new girl.

Ed looked back at him. "That's me!" she said, pointing a thumb at herself.

"But you're a girl," Leon said.

Ed laughed. "Ed knows that, silly." She let go of the claw arm and flipped to the  _Hammerhead's_ deck, landing on her feet. Leon noticed she didn't wear shoes. "So, what's your name, not-Spike-person?" Ed leaned forward, staring at Leon with big golden eyes. The Corgi stared at him too.

"Do none of you respect personal space on this ship?" he asked.

"Get used to it, kid," a deep voice said from behind him as a hand descended on his shoulder. "Faye and Ed are always up in your business, believe me."

"And what do you mean by that, Jet?" Faye asked from where she stood at the  _Hammerhead_ 's nose, casually inspecting her pistol.

"It's just hard to get people to mind their own business in a ship so small," Jet shrugged, but even Leon caught his sarcasm. The older man hopped down to the hangar floor.

"It's not like you and I haven't been partners for almost twenty years," Faye rolled her eyes. "I hardly think there are secrets between us anymore."

"You know a secret," Ed leaned toward Leon and winked conspiratorially. "Don't you?" Ein wriggled in her grasp some more, whining softly. Without warning, she thrust the Corgi at Leon.

"What secret?" Leon barely managed to catch the squirming dog in his arms. Ein licked Leon's face. "I don't have any secrets," Leon sputtered. He felt suddenly vulnerable, even though he couldn't think of anything he had to hide anyway.

"Your name," Ed reminded him.

"Oh, that," Leon laughed. "It's Leon." He scratched Ein behind the ears.

"Spiegel?" Ed asked.

"Um, no," Leon shook his head. "Leon Riley."

"Oh," Ed pouted. "Ed thought you might be the son of Spike person. You look just like him. Are you his evil twin?"

"No." Leon tilted his head and studied Ed. He wasn't sure what to make of her.

Ein squirmed again and Leon tried his best not to drop him. "You can let him go," Ed smiled. Leon put Ein down. The Corgi hopped off the  _Hammerhead_ and disappeared up a nearby staircase.

"DNA could tell us the truth," Ed returned to their conversation like they hadn't been interrupted. "How to make it talk, I wonder?" She tapped a finger against the side of her head in thought. "Ed knows!" she sang and cartwheeled off the ship. But she didn't explain what Ed knew. Leon was left scratching his head. The crew of the Bebop was certainly the most eclectic group of cowboys he had ever met.

"C'mon, kid, let's go inside. Just in case the Syndicate starts poking their nose where it doesn't belong," Faye said.

Leon looked down at her and nodded. It's not like he had somewhere else to go right now anyway. And he'd rather take his chances against the Syndicate with a few cowboys than alone. He slipped off the  _Hammerhead_ 's nose. "You really think they'll come snooping around here?" he asked. Jet and Ed had already walked up the staircase to the  _Bebop_ 's main interior deck.

Faye shrugged. "They're Syndicate. Who knows? It's not exactly like the  _Bebop_ 's hidden or anything. And if anybody recognized Jet's  _Hammerhead_ , then we're likely to get some visitors."

"What do you mean 'recognized Jet's  _Hammerhead_ '?" Leon demanded.

"Well, it's not exactly like we're strangers to the Red Dragon, especially after Spike wiped them out. They used to take hits at us too."

" _Wiped them out? Used to take hits at you?"_  Leon muttered to himself. What was he getting into? Aloud he said, "You seemed pretty sure they were after me on the pier. Are you sure they weren't after you?"

"I'm sure," she said. "Because I'm definitely not Spike Spiegel. But c'mon, if you've got questions, ask them upstairs with everybody. We've got questions for you too."

Leon followed Faye out of the hanger wondering what kind of questions the crew of the  _Bebop_ had for him.

* * *

"Damn, he does look just like him," Jet said, staring at Leon. The crew of the  _Bebop_ was assembled in the living room, sitting around the coffee table. Leon had taken off his trench coat and sat on the couch, coat folded over the back. He wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the buttons open at the neck, and dark slacks. Faye and Jet sat in chairs across from him and Ed lounged in the floor, Ein nestled between her legs.

"Told you so," Faye said.

"Uh-huh!" Ed agreed, looking over at him from a computer screen balanced on her up-drawn knee. Leon squirmed under all the scrutiny. Jet set a medical kit on the coffee table in front of him.

"No, really, I'm fine," Leon said as Jet pulled out bottles of ointment and a few bandages.

Jet gave him a look Leon felt like he had a lot of practice with. "If you don't clean those up, they'll hurt more," he said.

"Besides, you don't want to end up with whisker scars, do you?" Faye asked.

"Whisker scars?" Leon frowned. "They don't look like whiskers." He ran a hand over his cheeks again. One scratch was longer than the other, and higher. But Jet was right-they did sting.

"It won't take long," Jet said, up-ending a bottle of brownish liquid over a clean cloth. Once the cloth was damp, he set the bottle aside and came to kneel in front of Leon. Leon looked down at the older man with a little apprehension.

"Is that going to sting?" he asked.

Jet smiled, but there was something sad in his gaze. "He would've asked that too," he said, putting the cloth to Leon's face without further ado. Leon grunted as the cloth touched his cuts. It stung alright. He held still as Jet washed the blood off his face and cleaned up the two cuts. When he finished cleaning them, he applied an adhesive bandage to each one. Leon wrinkled his nose at the strange feeling of the bandages on each cheek.

"That's going to hurt when I have to pull them off, old man," he said when Jet sat back in his own chair across the table from Leon.

"Small price to pay to keep your good looks, kid," Faye said, studying her nails.

Leon sighed and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, sticking it between his teeth. He grabbed his lighter and flicked it with his thumb, then stopped as he noticed every single member of the  _Bebop_ staring at him.

"What?" he asked, frozen with the lighter halfway to his cigarette. "Is it this?" he gestured to the cigarette.

Ed shook her head emphatically.

"Who  _are_  you?" Jet asked.

"Um." Leon looked uncertainly between the three faces staring at him. "I already told you, my name's Leon."

"How old are you?" Jet asked.

"Nineteen," Leon said slowly, lighter and cigarette forgotten.

"He's tooo yooounngg," Ed said.

"And he doesn't have a cybernetic eye. I checked," Faye said.

Leon snuffed the lighter. "I'm too young for what?" he demanded. "And why would I have a cybernetic eye? Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on on this ship? Why does everybody think I'm someone else today?!" Leon was almost yelling.

Jet and Faye gave each other a long look. Ed stared off into space like she suddenly found the passing dust motes intensely interesting.

Jet sighed and ran a hand over his head. "It's a long story, kid."

Leon flicked the lighter again and lit his cigarette this time. "I'm listening."

Faye motioned for Jet to explain.

"So I guess this story starts about twenty years ago. I met an ex-Syndicate man in a bar. A man trying to drown his sorrows in the bottle. A man trying to forget a life he'd just escaped by the skin of his teeth. A man in a dream. That man was Spike. And we became partners."

Leon exhaled a long curl of smoke. It drifted lazily under the slowly spinning ceiling fan.

Jet continued. "We were bounty hunters. Cowboys, if you will. It gave Spike purpose again, chasing after bounties. And we were doing pretty good for ourselves too. We found Ein" Jet gestured at the corgi, "on a bounty run when someone tried to steal him and sell him to a pet shop. Then we picked up Faye after she tried to double-cross us and just never left."

"Hey!" Faye interrupted.

"You asked me to tell the story," Jet said, giving her a glare. Faye shut up.

"And then we picked up Ed after Faye tried to double-cross Ed. But something about a full ship wasn't enough for Spike. He was still living in a dream, facing demons of the past that none of us knew about. And one day those demons broke out of the dream and got into the real world. Spike had to confront them. So he did. But…" Jet took a deep breath. "He never came back to us."

Leon took a long draw on the cigarette and let the smoke seep out his nose. "So that was the Syndicate then, right? The demons?"

"Yes," Jet nodded.

"And Spike...didn't make it?" he asked quietly.

Jet nodded.

"So where do I fit into this story?"

"Like everyone keeps telling you, you look just like Spike," Jet said. "You act like him too. Even smoke like him."

Leon pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and looked at it for a long moment. "How can I be so like a man I've never met though? I don't even know what Spike looks like."

Ed pulled her computer onto the floor in front of her and started typing furiously on her keyboard.

Jet shrugged. "I don't know. But you look enough like him that you've got the Dragon fooled."

"So I found out today. Now I guess I've got to worry about them on my tail while I try to track bounties." Leon put his head on the back of the couch and stared up at the fan. "This is hopeless."

"More than you know, kid," Faye said.

He looked up at Faye. "Hey! That's not helping."

"Faye's right. The Dragon won't stop at today," Jet agreed. "They'll hunt you till they find you, or worse."

"Or worse?" Leon asked.

"Bang, bang, bang, end comes quick," Ed said. "Or maybe not so quick. Sometimes they start with fingers instead. Or toes." She shuddered like that was worse than death.

Leon flexed his right hand reflexively. He could finally feel his fingers again. "Ok, I get the idea. So they won't give up. So I just prove I'm not Spike."

"It's not quite that easy with the Syndicate," Faye said. "If they decide that you'll work as a stand-in for Spike, it won't matter what you prove. They'll go after you anyway, just to repair their damaged sense of pride."

"Especially if they can convince the other Syndicates that you're Spike," Jet added.

Leon paled. "Why me?" he moaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I'm just a kid. Wouldn't the other Syndicates figure out I'm not old enough to be Spike?"

"Perhaps," Faye shrugged. "But they can play you off as Spike's son and the result will be the same."

"Spike person's son!" Ed said, grinning. "See, Leo?" She flipped the computer around. Leon looked up and did a double take. He was staring at an older version of himself-the same unruly brown hair, same warm brown eyes, same cocky grin. He didn't know what to say. He would mistake himself for Spike too sans 10 years or so.

"Ed!" Faye exclaimed. "Where did you get that picture?"

"Off his cowboy's license," Ed said.

"Yeah, but Spike never had a son," Jet said, scratching his head. "Least not that he mentioned." He looked hard at Faye.

Faye held her hands up. "What are you looking at me for?"

"Well, you are the only woman on the ship," Jet said.

"Ed's a woman too!" Faye stood up and pointed at Ed. Ed smiled.

"Ed's too young, Faye!"

"Uh-huh," Faye put her hands on her hips. "And just when do you propose I had a baby when I was on  _your_  ship the entire freaking time I knew Spike?"

It was Jet's turn to hold up his hands. "I wasn't proposing that, exactly," he said.

"Then just what were you proposing?" Faye demanded.

"Hang on, hang on," Leon interrupted. "The orphanage told me my mom's name was Julia."

"WHAT?" Jet exclaimed at the same time that Faye yelled "Julia?!"

Leon shrank under the sudden intense stares. "That's what I was told," he said quietly.

"No, it can't be!" Faye said, putting a hand to her head.

"That bastard!" Jet growled. "He never told me he had a son!"

"You know, you're the second person to say that today," Leon told Jet. "But, um, what does the name Julia mean to you guys?"

"Spike used to talk about Julia girl a lot," Ed said. "I think he loved her."

"That's an understatement," Faye muttered.

"Wait - so what you're saying is -" Leon paused. "No, there's no way," he shook his head, trailing smoke back and forth in front of his face. "There are a million Julia's in the galaxy. There's no way that my mom just happened to be that Julia."

"Then how do you explain your uncanny resemblance to Spike?" Faye asked, crossing her arms.

Leon shook his head. "I don't know."

"Where were you born, kid?" Jet asked.

Leon shrugged. "Mars, I guess."

"You guess?" Faye asked.

"Well, I was brought to an orphanage on Mars as a baby and left there by my mother. So I guess I was born there."

"You were raised in an orphanage?" Jet asked.

"Yeah," Leon said. "I never knew my father. When I got older, the nuns there told me that I'd been dropped off at the door by my mother who said she couldn't take care of me because it was too dangerous. She told the nuns my name was Leon, but she never told anyone my father's name and she didn't give me a surname. The nuns called me Riley because that was in the tag of the coat she brought me wrapped in."

"So you could be the son of Spike-person!" Ed crowed triumphantly.

"I guess so," Leon said, sitting back on the couch. It was a lot to consider in an afternoon.

"The timing would just about work out, too," Jet mused.

"Is there any way to prove it?" Faye asked.

"DNA," Ed sang, waving her hands in the air. "It's all in the blooooood."

"Lord knows Spike shed enough of it," Jet said. "But where are we supposed to get a sample of Spike's blood, Ed?"

"We don't need his blood. Drool will work too," she said brightly.

"Drool? I'll check his pillow," Faye said dryly. "It's been fifteen years, Ed. It's not like we can just find this stuff lying around."

"Ed knows that. Faye Faye just isn't thinking straight."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Faye stomped her foot.

Ed giggled, tapping a finger against her nose.

Leon sat on the couch with his head in his hands, a thin trail of smoke curling between his splayed fingers.

"You ok, kid?" Jet asked.

Leon looked up between stray brown curls. "Yeah, I think so. I'm just…" he paused and snuffed his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. "It's a lot to take in. I just found out I might have a history beyond an orphanage, but a Syndicate wants me dead for it...I can't even leave the planet. Not in my ship at any rate. She won't make it far in space. She's not big enough." Leon let his thoughts filter through his mouth.

The crew was silent for a long moment.

"Well," Jet finally said, "you could join us, kid."


	3. Session Three

Leon sat on the stairs leading down into the _Bebop_ ’s hangar, a cigarette burning mostly forgotten between his fingers. He rested his elbow on his knee, chin propped in his hand, attempting to sort out everything that had just been thrown at him. After being bombarded with more questions by Faye, Jet finally put a stop to the interrogation and gave Leon some space to think.

He tried to sort the facts into two categories--what he knew for sure and what might be true.

What he knew for sure: the Red Dragon Syndicate and the crew of the _Bebop_ all mistook him for Spike at first glance. Even he had to admit he was a dead ringer for the man. He now had a Syndicate chasing him down to restore their lost honor, which meant they’d make a scapegoat out of him even if he wasn’t the right man. He’d been offered a place on the _Bebop_ to escape the Syndicate. His ship was out in the harbor and he wasn’t sure how he’d manage to get it without raising Syndicate attention. His last name wasn’t Riley.

What might be true: he might be Spike and Julia’s son, born of some sort of secret tryst, since not even Spike’s closest companions knew he existed. But besides a lot of coincidence, there was no proof for this claim. Unless Spike could come back from the grave to confirm it. Or he could find his mother. Leon sat up straighter. Maybe they could find Julia. Jet and Faye both seemed to know who she was, so maybe he could find his mom after all these years and get the truth out of her.

Leon stared at the thin curl of smoke rising from his cigarette. Just like the little wisp, disturbed by even the soft puff of his breath, life was fragile. Even the lightest nudge sent it careening in unknown directions.

He heard footsteps on the stairs above him. He looked over his shoulder to see Jet silhouetted in the light spilling from the _Bebop_ ’s main deck.

“Mind if I join you?” Jet asked.

Leon shrugged.

Jet took that as a yes and walked down a few steps until he was level with Leon. He sat down beside the boy and pulled a cigarette from his own pocket. Leon offered him his lighter. Jet took it and lit his cigarette, then handed the silver lighter back to Leon. Leon put it in his pocket. Jet took a draw on the cigarette and breathed out slowly.

“It’s a lot to think about, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Leon said. “It is.”

“How are you feeling?”

Leon shrugged again. “Lost, I think.”

Jet was silent.

“What am I supposed to feel about all this, Jet?”

Jet looked over at Leon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if all this is true, I just found out I have a father and he’s dead, all at the same time.”

Jet frowned. “I know it’s tough, believe me.”

“You have a similar experience?” Leon asked.

“No, not similar. But I’ve been through Spike’s death before. More than once.”

“More than once?”

Jet nodded, smoke tracing the lines of his face. “Spike was reckless and he lived for the feeling of the moment. If life was quiet, he was dead. The man lived on adrenaline and intuition.”

Leon smiled a little. “Sounds exciting,” he said.

“It was, usually. But Spike had wounds deeper than the ones I could see. And they caught up to him eventually, slowly sapping his strength until they took all he had to give.”

“Was it a suicide mission then?” Leon asked quietly. “When he fought the Syndicate?”

“Hard to say. He certainly talked like a man going to die. But he told Faye that he was going to see if he lived,” Jet trailed off.

“Sounds complicated,” Leon said.

“It was. We didn’t even get a proper goodbye. I’d only known Spike about four or five years, but I’d always just figured we’d be partners till the end. That’s why you shocked me so much when I first saw you.”

“Is that why you want me on the _Bebop?_ To be Spike again?”

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a little bit true. Spike left a big hole in all our lives when he left the _Bebop._ But, no, I don’t want you to be Spike. That’s asking a little much, don’t you think? I just thought it’d be an easier way to avoid the Syndicate for you. Plus, you look like you could use a little something to line your pockets, kid.”

“How’d you guess?” Leon asked grimly.

“Call it a cowboy’s intuition,” Jet smiled.

“A meal would be nice,” Leon admitted. He tried to think back to the last thing he’d eaten, only to realize he didn’t remember. Probably cold rations on his last hunt.

“I can’t promise anything glorious, but we’ve got some noodles at least.”

“At this point, I’d take anything,” Leon said. His stomach chose that moment to growl.

Jet laughed.

“Hey, Jet, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Earlier when I mentioned my mother’s name, you and Faye reacted pretty sharply. I take it you knew her?”

“I knew about her. Faye met her once.”

“Could we find her?” Leon asked. “To see if I really am Spike’s son?”

Jet sighed. “I hate to tell you this, kid, but Julia, if she really was your mother...she...she was killed that night as well.”

Leon felt like a hole suddenly opened up beneath him. “Oh. By the Syndicate?”

“Yes. And I think it’s only fair you know that both Spike and Julia were Syndicate.”

Leon stared at the steps beneath him, watching the floor of the hanger through the perforated metal.

“Spike got out of it all. That’s when I met him. But Julia stayed. And something about that never sat right with Spike. He wanted her to come with him.”

“Why’d she stay?” Leon asked. He couldn’t imagine anyone willingly wanting to be a part of a Syndicate.

“Familiarity, protection, power, leverage, who knows,” Jet said. “Once a Syndicate sinks its claws in you, you don’t usually get to leave. Spike was one of the lucky ones.”

“Then why’d he go back?”

“Because he knew someone had to stop the evil that the Dragon had become.”

“But it didn’t work,” Leon said, feeling his heart sink even more. “Wasn’t it Red Dragon that chased me today?”

“It was,” Jet nodded. “Who can say what Spike thought he’d accomplish that day fifteen years ago. All I know is that the Red Dragon was silent for a long, long time. And they have nowhere near the influence they used to. Or the leadership. It wasn’t really the Dragon Spike went to fight that day. It was the snake.”

Leon looked puzzled.

“A man named Vicious. He and Spike were Syndicate together, but Vicious decided to take a darker path and Spike didn’t follow. They never made up their differences after that. Vicious just wanted power and Spike realized that someone had to stop him from taking that or else we’d have a lot more than just a few dead men on our hands.”

“So he sacrificed himself in order to save the greater good,” Leon took a draw on his cigarette.

“I’d like to think that was the end goal, yes,” Jet said.

“Looks like I’ve got a lot to live up to then,” Leon said, a grim smile twisting his lips.

“Just don’t go following in Spike’s footsteps too closely,” Jet said.

“Don’t worry, old man, I don’t plan to die anytime soon. Not if I can help it.” Leon scrubbed his cigarette out on the stairs.

“I am not an old man,” Jet muttered.

Leon chuckled. “So, if I do join the _Bebop,_ how are we gonna retrieve my ship?”

It was Jet’s turn to smile. “Well, if you do join the _Bebop,_ we might have a better offer.”

“You gonna give me a new ship?” Leon asked, incredulous.

“Oh, she’s not a new ship,” Jet said. “But she’s a good ship. C’mon.” He stood up and motioned Leon to follow. Leon followed Jet through the hanger, behind the _Hammerhead._ There was another ship resting on the floor beyond the _Hammerhead,_ a bulky robotic thing with two arms and a bubble cockpit.

“That?” Leon said, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging.

“No, not that. That’s Faye’s _Redtail._ She’d kill me if I tried to give it to you. No, this is what I had in mind.” Jet ducked behind the _Redtail_ into the back of the hangar where Leon caught the gleam of something sleek and red. He rounded the _Redtail_ to see a gleaming red racer, all smooth lines and aerodynamic shape. She had a plasma cannon mounted on her front and missile launchers slung under her wings.

Leon whistled. “She’s beautiful.”

Jet smiled. “She was his.”

“Spike’s, you mean?”

Jet nodded, running a hand wistfully down the ship’s flank. “Her name is _Swordfish._ ”

Leon walked around the ship, admiring her from all angles. “You’d just give her to me?”

“Well, she’s been sitting here collecting dust for fifteen years. We never got around to giving her up, so you might as well put her to good use. Besides, she’s your legacy, really.”

“Wow,” Leon breathed.

“Go ahead and hop up there, see if you like her.” Jett gestured at the cockpit.

Leon clambered up the side of the _Swordfish,_ dropping easily into the open cockpit. He settled into the pilot’s seat like he’d been born in it, the controls molding to his hands like the ship had been made for him. He felt the bandages on his cheeks stretch as a wide grin split his face.

“Why would you let this baby sit for fifteen years?” Leon asked incredulous.

“It just didn’t feel right to take her out,” Jet said.

Leon looked over the edge of the cockpit. He hadn’t realized Jet heard him.

“But it seemed wrong to get rid of her. So I’ve done maintenance on her to keep her in working order and we’ve taken her for a spin or two to keep her engine running.”

“Oh, man, she’s a beast,” Leon said. “You’re serious, you’ll give her to me?”

“She’s all yours. That is, if you’re joining the _Bebop.”_

“Jet, you dirty scoundrel, I’m in.”

And for a moment, it wasn’t Leon sitting in the old familiar cockpit, but Spike with his feral grin and lazy grace.


	4. Session Four

The crew of the  _ Bebop  _ was assembled in the living room once more. Ed was singing to herself, something about octopi, as she typed madly on her keyboard. Leon was on the couch again, left ankle crossed over his right knee, a cup of flash noodles in hand. He shoveled noodles to his mouth a bit faster than was polite. Faye sat beside him, curled into one arm of the couch, looking on in disdain. Leon ignored her. Jet sat across the table like before. They were discussing the logistics of getting him on the  _ Bebop.  _ “You got any possessions we should retrieve first, Leon?” Jet asked.

Leon snorted and swallowed. “Nothing but a few clothes and some ammunition. I’ve been living out of my  _ S-280 Shark.  _ Everything that’s important to me is in my pockets.”

“Clothes and ammunition? We can cover you on those. The  _ Bebop _ ’s a virtual arsenal and there’s some old stuff of Spike’s that ought to fit you,” Jet said.

Faye wrinkled her nose. “You’ve been living in a  _ Shark _ ? How can you stand it? The  _ Bebop  _ is crowded enough.”

“Um, I’m a man of simple means?” Leon spread his hands, fork in one and noodles in the other.

“Also how can you stand those noodles?” Faye muttered.

“Because I’m hungry?” Leon said, taking another big bite. “C’mon Faye, what’s the matter?” he mumbled around a mouthful of noodles. “You don’t seem to like me much now that I’m joining the crew.”

“Faye doesn’t like anybody,” Jet waved a hand dismissively. 

“Hey, that’s not true! I like some people. Just, more civilized people.”

“Ed’s not civilized?” Ed looked up from her computer screen.

“Of course you are, Ed,” Faye said. “It’s these lunkheads who aren’t,” she gestured to Leon and Jet. 

“Lunkheads,” Ed snickered as if at a private joke. Leon was pretty sure she was the only one in on it.

“Lunkhead or not, you’ll have to get used to me, Faye. Looks like I’m a permanent fixture now,” Leon smiled at her charmingly. But the effect was ruined by the bulging pockets of noodles in his cheeks. Jet was struck yet again in just as many minutes how like Spike Leon really was.

Leon swallowed and turned to Jet. “But, uh, much as I’m not attached to the  _ Shark,  _ I would like to at least get a decent sum out of her. She’s in good condition. I could sell her before we leave. And I’d hate to just leave her swimming in the harbor without a pilot.”

“No problem. Leave that to Ed. She can sell your  _ Shark  _ remotely and just transfer the funds to you.” 

“What? That’s possible?” Leon looked over at Ed.

“Of course it’s possible, Leo,” she said. “Tomato here makes anything possible.” She patted the computer like she might pat Ein.

“Wait,” Faye purred, perking up . “If you’re part of the  _ Bebop  _ now, then that means all your funds are communal. So we get to split the profit from your  _ Shark.”  _

“No way! I bought that ship fair and square! If I sell her, I want to pocket what I’ll get out of her.”

“It’s only a few thousand woolongs, Faye. Hardly enough to bat your eye at,” Jet said. “Let the kid keep his money.”

Faye pouted. “A woman’s got to try, right?” she sighed dramatically. 

Leon slurped his noodles. 

“Ed found a buyer!” Ed crowed. 

“Really?” Leon leaned over the arm of the couch to look at Ed’s computer. “That fast.” He raised his eyebrows. “Huh.”

“He’ll give you 10,000 woolongs for the _ Sharkey _ . Chomp chomp.”

“Sure, that’s more than what I probably would have gotten out of her. Thanks, Ed.”

“No problem!” Ed said, striking the last key on her keyboard. “ _ Sharkey _ sold and your chip gets rich.” She grinned. “All thanks to Ed. Thank you, thank you,” she threw one hand up in the air and bowed from where she sat on the floor, like she’d just put on a one-man show.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of, we’d best get the  _ Bebop  _ off Mars for a while,” Jet said. “And I think I’ve found the perfect bounty to do it. Pull ‘er up, Ed.”

“Yes, sir!” Ed saluted as they all gathered around her screen.

* * *

 

A few days later, the  _ Bebop  _ pulled out of Jupiter’s Astral Gate and made her way to Ganymede while a heated discussion took place in the living room.

“Remind me again why we’re sending an untried colt to play the part of a seasoned street thug?” Faye asked.

“Untried colt? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Leon glared at Faye.

Faye grinned smugly.

Jet sighed and put his head in his hand. He should have known Faye would argue with Spike’s son just as much as she argued with Spike. In fact, after bringing the kid on board, that’s about all she’d done. “Because he looks more like a drug addict than you, Faye.”

“Hey!” Leon spluttered. “I do not look like a drug addict!”

“You will,” Ed grinned. 

Leon glared at her, but she was focused on her computer, reflective goggles over her eyes. 

“Faye, who’s going to be more realistic--a nineteen year old kid or a forty year old woman with some obvious history?” Jet said, looking up from his hand.

“I am not that old!” Faye yelled.

"Technically--" Ed began.

"Shut up!" Faye rounded on Ed.

Ed giggled.

Leon raised an eyebrow, but no one bothered to explain.

"I'm just saying," Jet reigned in the conversation. “Thugs gravitate toward stereotypes just as much as we do. Leon’s young. Not only will he look less threatening, but they’ll credit him with less experience, which means they’ll have less of a guard up when dealing with him.”

“The experience part isn’t exactly untrue,” Faye said. 

“And that’s where we come in,” Jet reminded her. “Leon’s only going in for reconnaissance. This mission isn’t a simple grab and bag, Faye. This op is serious. We’re going to have to infiltrate Villanova’s lower ranks before we get her.”

“Why do I get all the boring jobs around here?” Faye sighed theatrically.

“I thought you’d enjoy transforming Leon into an addict,” Jet said innocently. 

Faye perked up. “Transform him, you say?” she tapped a finger against her lips, and tilted her head, studying Leon. 

Leon narrowed his eyes. “Transform me?”

“Well, we are going after a drug dealer. And like you said, you don’t exactly look like an addict. We’ve got to make it convincing and Faye’s the best on the ship when it comes to make-up and disguises,” Jet said.

Leon didn’t like the leonine stare Faye was giving him.

“Ok,” he said, feeling like he was agreeing to something he didn’t fully understand. “Can we go over the target again?”

“Sure!” Ed chirped, turning the Tomato so everyone could see the screen. The fact that Ed had an uncanny knack of listening to everything even when she didn’t seem to be still amazed Leon. A scowling face stared back up at the crew from the screen--a woman of indeterminate age with short black hair and sharp dark eyes. She wore a white t-shirt under a faded military coat, complete with the end of an assault rifle sticking over her shoulder from its harness on her back. Beside the picture was a short description and a list of her crimes. 

_ Name: Miriatha Villanova _ .  _ Age:unknown. Home planet: unknown. Military Status: believed to have served in the Titan War, all records beyond 2066 destroyed. Bounty: 200,000,000 woolongs. Current Charges: assault, murder, drug trafficking/manufacturing, weapons/arms trafficking, evading arrest, fraud, military desertion, impersonating government officials. Currently believed to be based on Venus overseeing the creation of a new strain of Red Eye that is going by the street name Dragon’s Eye.  _

“So we’re not going after her directly, but some of her underlings?” Leon asked. 

“Exactly,” Jet nodded. “If we start at the bottom we’ve got to reach the top sometime. We can’t get at her directly yet. We don’t know where she is. ISSP believes she’s on Venus, but there’s no substantial proof.”

“So then why are we on Ganymede?” Faye asked.

“Because the drug she’s dealing has hit the streets here.”

“Can’t Ed just find her?” Faye sighed. “Then we wouldn’t have to do all this running around.”

“Ed looked. She doesn’t exist,” Ed pouted. “No Villanova in the web anywhere! Must mean she’s a spider.”

“A spider?” Faye frowned.

“Yeah, because she’s spinning the web instead of getting caught in it, right Ed?” Leon asked.

“Precisely!” Ed clapped her hands. 

Faye frowned. Despite only knowing Ed for a few days, Leon seemed to understand her eccentricities better than Faye or Jet.

“Which means hopefully we can become a fly and follow the spider’s web back to the spider,” Jet said. 

“Doesn’t the fly usually get eaten by the spider?” Faye pointed out dryly. 

“Not this fly,” Jet said. 

Leon grinned.

* * *

 

“Hold still,” Faye purred. She was obviously enjoying herself.

Leon sat on the couch with his head tipped back, staring up at Faye who sat across him, her knees on either side of his legs. She held a bottle of red dye in one hand and an eyedropper in the other.

“Do I really have to do this?” Leon grimaced. 

“How convincing of an addict do you want to be?” Faye smiled.

“But dye, really?”

“Look, anyone who’s been on Red Eye recently still has traces of red in the whites of their eyes. That’s why they call it Red Eye. If you’re supposed to be floating on a three-day stint like your story says, your eyes would be red as hell.”

“Yeah, but how am I supposed to walk through town without getting arrested by the first person who looks me in the eye?”

“That’s your prerogative, kid. Now open your eyes and hold still.”

“Are we sure this is safe?”

“That’s Ed’s prerogative,” Faye said. “She says it’s safe.”

Leon gulped back a retort and picked a spot on the ceiling to focus on. Faye put the dropper in the bottle of dye and sucked a generous amount into the small tube. Then, setting the bottle on the arm on the couch, she leaned over Leon and set her fingers above and below his right eye, forcing him not to blink. 

“1, 2, 3,” she counted and dropped a splash of the dye in his eye. Leon sucked in a breath as the cold liquid blurred his vision. Faye repeated the process with his left eye, then set the dropper down and held his head so he couldn’t lift it. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure it takes. If you look up too quick, you’ll just cry red dye and we’ll have to do this all over again.” 

Leon growled. 

“Don’t take it so hard, sweetie,” Faye said. “This’ll only take a minute.”

After fastidiously counting out a minute and holding him down for twenty extra seconds “just to make sure,” Faye finally let Leon sit up. She left the couch and screwed the cap back on the bottle of red dye. Leon blinked several times, clearing his vision. His eyes itched, but he resisted the urge to rub them, knowing that would only make things worse. 

“Ok, how do I look?” he asked Faye once his eyes stopped watering.

“Terrible,” she giggled. “I did great. Here,” she handed Leon a compact mirror from her make-up bag.

Leon snapped it open in his palm and looked at the result. His hair stuck up in more of a rat’s nest than usual and his face appeared drawn and pale. Faye had applied thick shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. The fading scar from the bullet wound on his left cheek only added to the look. The whites of his eyes were stained crimson, like he hadn’t slept in ages, or he’d just shot up with a truckload of Red Eye. In the dirty t-shirt and leather jacket Jet had procured for him, Leon felt as much like a drug addict as he looked.

“You’re right,” he said. “I look awful.”

“Just don’t forget you don’t feel awful. Yet.”

“What?”

“Red Eye enhances your senses,” Faye said. “So your reflexes and your perception are all high right now. But it dulls your reasoning. So your ability to think is pretty low. And your temper is out of control. The let-down doesn’t happen for another several hours.”

“Great,” Leon muttered. “This stuff does wash out though, right?” he asked, examining his eyes in the mirror.

“Of course it does,” Faye smiled.

Leon glared at her. “It better.”

Just then Jet returned to the living room. 

“You look terrible,” he said. “If I was still ISSP, I’d bag you for sure.”

“You were ISSP?” Leon asked, sensing a story. 

“Long time ago,” Jet waved his hand dismissively and didn’t offer any more information. “You look convincing, is what I was saying.”

“Thanks, Jet,” Leon grimaced. “Ok, let’s get this over with. I’m going in to buy some Dragon’s Eye, right?”

“That’s the gist of it.” Jet handed Leon a plastic card. “This should be enough to convince the sellers you’re serious. Don’t worry if they get ahold of the card. The woolongs on it are fake.”

“They can’t detect that, can they?”

“Not unless they try to withdraw it from the bank. This is pure Edward on here.” Jet tapped the card. “All we need from you is information about where the drugs come from and how to get more of them. Remember, you’re not acting for yourself. You’re part of a gang and your leader will do lucrative business if what they give you today is good. Make up whatever offer you think will get these guys to talk. We want all the information we can get.”

“Right,” Leon resisted the urge to swipe at his eyes. 

“Try not to cry,” Faye said in his ear.

“What?”

“Your eyes are watering. Try not to cry. You’ll smudge the make-up.”

* * *

 

Ed located the local Dragon’s Eye dealer with a few keystrokes and showed Leon the position on a map of Ganymede. But he hadn’t been allowed to take a map with him, so he was relying mostly on memory--that and the voices of Faye and Jet on his com. Set into his ear, the little piece of tech was nearly invisible to anyone not looking for it and whatever Faye had done with his hair guaranteed the earpiece was covered by a mess of brown curls. Although they couldn’t see him, they could track him through the device and hear everything that was said within a few feet.

Jet had taken Leon out in the Hammerhead and dropped him off close to his destination so he didn’t have to try to walk across town looking like a drug addict. Here in the slums though, he doubted anyone cared. He had his pistol tucked into a shoulder harness under his jacket, but he didn’t want anyone to think he was armed, so he resisted the urge to reach under his left shoulder and touch the reassuring grip. He walked down the alley with his hands in his pockets, whistling to himself, something jaunty and out-of-tune. 

_ It’s coming up on your left, _ Jet’s voice crackled in his ear. 

Leon nearly jumped, but managed to quell the reaction at the last second. Then he realized it wouldn’t matter if he was jumpy--he was supposed to be high as a kite right now anyway. “Thanks for that,” he muttered.

The building he’d been sent to look for was a warehouse that had been converted into a bar. The front half of the building had been made to inhale lowlifes and bleed booze, but the back half still served as a warehouse for contraband and a meeting place for those interested in its transfer. Leon found the building without a hitch. Faded blue paint covered corrugated metal plating across the front. Two big windows fronted the street, but they were so grimy that he could only make out indistinct shadows inside. A few neon lights buzzed by the front door, looking about as drunk as the man propped against the front steps. A sign hanging over the door proclaimed the place to be the Lion’s Den. Leon rolled his eyes -- they could at least have tried with the name. He affected a swagger and sauntered into the bar.

Inside, the place was dimly lit by lanterns scattered across the tables, bar, and walls. A couple of industrial fans spun slowly in the ceiling, moving sluggish air throughout the room. Pool tables hunkered on the left side of the room and a heavy wooden bar took up the right. Stools lined the bar and tables and chairs created a haphazard maze out of the rest of the room. Some of the chairs weren’t even chairs, but battered shipping crates. There were perhaps twenty or thirty men in the room when Leon walked in, about a fourth of the room’s full capacity, and they almost all went silent at his entrance. He gazed around the room through hooded eyes. The men stared right back. In the dim half-light, Leon knew he must look like one hell of a wreck. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, his motions all slow, precise. He breathed in and on the count of ten exhaled, wreathing his face in smoke. Most of the men went back to their own business. Talking resumed. Leon felt like a walking target as he slouched his way to the bar. He kept his head down and slid onto a stool.

The bartender finished wiping a glass with enough indolence to let Leon know he wasn’t an honored guest, then sauntered over. Leon made sure his eyes were concealed under the fringe of his hair as he observed the bartender. He was slender, somewhere between thirty and fifty, with slick dark hair, a narrow face and a scattering of a beard clinging to his jaw. “What you want, kid?” he asked. 

Leon made a gun out of the fingers of his right hand and pointed it at his eye. If the bartender was as much of a thug as Leon pegged him for, then he’d recognize the universal symbol for Red Eye.  The bartender’s eyes widened, but he frowned. “Aren’t you a little young for that?”

Leon looked up at the man then, letting him see the full effect of his eyes. He grinned. “Do I look too young for it now?” he asked, putting a bit of a growl in his voice.

The bartender shook his head. He rapped his knuckles against the back of the bar in an unconscious pattern. Leon chuckled softly. Faye’s disguise was nothing if not convincing. If the man were dealing with a Red-Eye addict, then he’d think twice before trying to double-cross or fight him. If Leon really were on the drug, his reaction time would be extremely high and his ability to see a few milliseconds into the future would put the bartender at a disadvantage. No need to let the man know he wasn’t functioning with unnatural reflexes.

“Who are you?” the bartender asked, nerves forcing his voice. 

“No one you need to worry about,” Leon answered smoothly, but he let his gaze stray to the glasses lining the shelves behind the bar. He picked one just over the bartender’s head that allowed him a good reflection of the room behind him. He saw a man detach himself from one of the pool tables just as the bartender knocked his knuckles against the back of the bar again. “I’m just looking for a good deal,” he kept his tone conversational as the man from the pool tables advanced. “I was told I could find one here. I’m to ask for Andross.”

“There’s no one here by that name,” the bartender answered too quickly. Leon put his feet on the floor. He was only going to have one shot at this. The man from the pool tables was almost in range. Leon counted his steps as he came closer.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” he said, looking the bartender straight in the eye for a count of three. Then he jumped up from the stool, planted his feet, and spun, putting all his weight behind a solid right hook straight to the approaching man’s jaw. Not prepared for the move, the man walked right into it, his own momentum working against him. The man went down in a daze, dropping the revolver he’d been about to draw. Leon lashed out with a foot, caught the revolver with the toe of his boot, and flung it up into his hand before it hit the ground. He turned back around and rapped the bartender across the hand with the revolver just as he was about to tap the bar with his knuckles again. “Because I am about to come down from a glorious high and I’d hate for it to have to end. Wouldn’t you?” Leon pulled the hammer back with a satisfying click as he slid back onto the bar stool. 

_ Are you sure you’re just acting?  _ Faye’s voice came over his com. Leon ignored her.

The bartender’s mouth hung open in surprise. Leon smiled lazily and flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette. “So, are you serving or not?”

“Alright, alright,” the bartender held up his hands. “No need to hurt anyone,” he said. “You’re in the right spot. Andross has what you want. In there.” The bartender pointed at a faded red door in the back of the bar. It was half-concealed by a rack of pool cues and extra balls and marked with a crudely lettered sign that read  _ Employees Only. _

_ Don’t let him fool you,  _ Jet warned.  _ There’s probably a safeword to get “in there” without getting your head blown off. _

“What’s the password?” Leon asked. 

“Password?” the bartender laughed nervously. “What password?”

“The one that keeps my head attached to my shoulders when I walk through that door,” Leon snarled. Let the man think his patience was wearing thin. 

“Right, password, of course.” The bartender reached under the bar. Leon pointed the revolver at him, but he could see in the reflections on the glasses that the bartender wasn’t going for anything as big as a gun. 

The man gulped and came up with a small red scarf. He laid it on the bar. “Tie that around your right wrist and you are good to go.”

“What good is this going to do me?” Leon picked up the scarf and waved it under the bartender’s nose. The little piece of cloth was ragged along the edges, as if used frequently. 

“It's a signal for what you’re buying. Red for Red Eye, green for Crystal Shiver, yellow for Dandy...see?” The bartender briefly held up a stack of different colored scarves from under the bar.

“Clever,” Leon smiled. “Now, tie it for me, why don’t you, Charley?” he said. 

“Charley?” the bartender asked, genuinely confused. 

_ Charley?  _ Two voices chorused in his ear.

“It’s as good a name as any, isn’t it?” Leon grinned, making a show of examining the revolver. 

“Yes, of course,” the bartender agreed. He picked up the scarf and tied it around Leon’s right wrist.

“Thanks, Charley,” Leon drawled. He hefted the revolver, nodded as if satisfied, and strolled to the red door. While there were several sets of curious eyes watching him, no one dared follow him. The fellow he’d decked lay on the floor like some sort of exotic rug. Leon took a deep breath. The red door had no identifying marks on it, no peep hole or window to look through, and was made of sturdy wood. He would look suspicious if he put his ear to it before walking through. 

Leon switched the gun to his left hand, sacrificing a little accuracy for secrecy. 

“I’m going in,” he murmured and gave the knob a twist.


	5. Session Five

The door opened onto a bare hallway created by pasteboard walls dividing the larger warehouse space into smaller rooms and halls. Leon eased the door shut behind him and stood still, listening. When he heard no immediate challenge, he slipped further into the hall, all senses alert. He scanned the hallway restlessly. The walls on either side of him didn’t reach the ceiling, which towered some fifteen or twenty feet over his head. Hanging industrial lights gave the room a sharp glow, casting deep shadows in the corners. The hallway ended abruptly, widening into the main room of the warehouse. Leon stood in the cover of the wall and scanned the room. Scattered stacks of crates and barrels covered the floor, leaving open walkways that lead drunkenly into the darkened corners of the warehouse. Some crates were metal, some wood, some labeled, and some blank, but it didn’t take an expert to guess the goods in the crates weren’t legal. Around the edges of the room, more pasteboard walls created smaller office spaces. Most of these had closed doors, but one or two were open and spilled light onto the floor. Leon guessed that was where the drug labs were.

Leon didn’t see any people, but he could hear the soft sound of footsteps and low voices from deeper in the warehouse. He tossed his cigarette on the floor and ground it out with his foot. Then he shook his right hand, letting his coat sleeve conceal the red scarf on his wrist. When he felt as prepared as he could be, he took a few slow, lazy steps into the room. He was immediately greeted by the barrel of a rifle tickling his ribs. He froze.

“Lay your gun on the floor and step back. Don’t try anything funny,” the burly man at the other end of the rifle said. Leon took a quick glance at the man, making sure not to expose his eyes. The man wore black clothing with heavy combat boots and a mini arsenal on his belt. He had a square face, one used to being punched, and close-cropped blond hair.

“I said lay it down,” the man growled.

Leon did as he was told and stepped away from the revolver, and coincidentally, the rifle.

“Anything else?” the voice asked.

“No,” Leon said slowly.

The man grunted, but lowered his rifle.“What are you here for?” he asked.

Leon took a gamble. “Can’t you tell?” he asked, looking the man full in the face.

The rifle was back in his face. Leon didn’t flinch. “Is this how you treat all your business contacts?”

“Only the deadbeat addicts,” the man growled. “I don’t know how you got in here,” his eyes flickered to Leon’s right wrist, looking for the scarf no doubt, “but we don’t serve your kind here. So get out.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Leon shook his head. “My kind?” he shrugged. “Alright then, but my boss won’t be very happy when he hears that I cancelled his business offer with Andross because a no-account henchman got in my way.”

“No-account!” the man shouted. He twitched, as if about to act, but just then a hand descended on his shoulder and a second man stepped into view behind him. 

“There’s no need for violence, Jag. Yet.”

The second man was of average height, muscular like a dancer, with caramel colored skin and a shock of messy brown hair. He looked to be somewhere in his 30’s and dressed in the casual style of fast, new money -- a man who was making his fortune and wanted the world to know it. Leon didn’t see a gun on him, but he didn’t put it past him to have something small stowed in a pocket or behind his back. Jag relaxed only slightly, but at least his rifle wasn’t pointed at Leon’s face anymore.

“You are Lucaza’s contact, no?” the slender man smiled. Lucaza was the name of the crime boss Faye and Jet had rigged for Leon’s story. Posing as the crime boss, Jet had contacted Andross earlier to lay more backstory for Leon.

“You must be Andross?” Leon asked.

The man smiled, revealing white teeth. “I’m surprised they sent someone so young for a deal this big.”

“Perhaps they wanted you to be surprised,” Leon responded.

The henchman growled.

“Calm yourself, Jag,” Andross held out a hand. “He’s only a kid.”

“He’s a Redder, boss,” Jag frowned. “He’s not safe.”

“I’m perfectly safe,” Leon said, holding his hands up. “See?” His coat sleeve slipped and revealed the red scarf tied around his wrist, as he wanted it to. He immediately went for his pistol. Jag responded as Leon guessed he would, by bringing his rifle to bear, only to find that Leon already had a gun pointed at him. Leon was hoping his faster reaction would further his Red Eye illusion.

There was no way for either of them to miss, standing this close. But Leon was counting on the reputation of Red-Eye to hold Jag’s finger. Sweat trickled down his back.

“Do you really think you can outshoot me, Jag?” Leon said with a lot more bravado than he felt, hoping these wouldn't be his last words. “I’ll pull the trigger first,” Leon tapped a finger beside his eye.

 _What the hell are you doing?_ Jet demanded over his earpiece.

 _Playing my part,_ Leon thought.

Jag stared him down but didn't speak. Leon could see the hesitation in the man’s eyes. He had just enough respect for the drug that he didn't want to take a chance.

“Stand down, both of you!” Andross’ voice cut through the tension like a knife. He forcibly pushed Jag’s rifle to the ground.

Leon scowled, like the idea was repulsive, but he lowered his gun too.

“I don’t want a shoot-out in the middle of the warehouse. You two want to kill each other, go outside. But do it after I secure this deal.”

“He tried to sneak a weapon in,” Jag snarled.

Andross clucked his tongue. “You neglected to search him.” Andross turned to Leon, “However, I must ask you relinquish your pistol during your visit. You understand, don't you?”

Leon growled something in the affirmative.

Jag promptly came forward and took the gun from Leon’s grasp. He then proceeded to pat Leon down. Leon held still. He didn’t have to fake the look of annoyance and indignation on his face at the rough search. Jag pulled everything out of his pockets--a half-used pack of cigarettes, his silver lighter, a scrap of paper and a pencil stub. Leon was glad he'd hidden the woolong card. “He’s clear,” Jag scowled when no further weapons came up.

The henchman pocketed Leon’s pistol.

“I’ll want that back, you know,” Leon said.

Jag’s only answer was to point Leon’s own gun at him.

Leon shut up.

Andross walked forward.

“Lucaza told me he’d be sending an agent. But I hardly expected a Redder. Is Lucaza’s deal as lucrative as he claimed it was?”

“You know Dragon’s Eye’s lucrative. You’ve got the facility, he’s got the money. I’ve come to cut a deal.”

“What kind of a deal do you think you’re going to cut us?” Jag demanded.

“Jag!” Andross looked truly angry for the first time. “That is enough. I can conduct my own business.” The venom in Andross’ voice was palpable. So, he didn’t have a good relationship with his men. Which meant that his men were new and didn’t know their place yet, or they were being supplied by someone else and weren’t inclined to listen to Andross.

“Last I checked, making new drugs wasn’t cheap or easy,” Leon said, crossing his arms. “My boss is willing to offer his support if this stuff is the real deal.”

“Provided?” Andross asked.

“Provided he gets a cut, of course.”

“What good is your money if you’re just asking for it back?” Jag demanded.

Andross glowered at him.

“Who said the cut was in money?” Leon asked.

“What does your boss want?” Andross asked. Leon could tell he’d at least piqued interest.

“Show me the product and I’ll tell you.”

Andross made a dismissive motion with his hand. “You may return to your rounds now, Jag,” he said. Jag scowled, but turned on his heel and began a slow march around the perimeter of the room.

When he was out of earshot, Leon shook the red scarf at Andross. “This has nothing to do with the drugs, does it?” he asked.

Andross smiled. “Just as much as the color of your eyes has nothing to do with your current mental state,” he said. “But you’re right.”

“Guess I’m not a convincing addict, huh?”

 _There goes all my hard work,_ Faye sighed.

Leon slipped the scarf off and tossed at at Andross. “But really, red for danger, yellow for caution, green for go?”

Andross laughed and snatched the scarf out of the air. “You’re not irrational enough for an addict,” he pointed out. “And sadly, not all my hired muscle is as smart as you. It keeps life simple when I stick to something they know.”

“At least now I know why Jag wanted to kill me.” Leon made a mental note to personally strangle the bartender on the way out. “How come you stopped us?”

“We’re not complete savages.” Andross looked genuinely offended. “Besides, I’ve got enough on my plate right now without trying to hide dead bodies.”

Leon grimaced.

“But enough of that,” Andross said. “You want to see the product?”

Leon nodded. Andross motioned for him to follow. He led Leon down the left side of the room, following one of the makeshift paths between shipping crates. Leon tried to identify some of the product in the crates, but all the labels had been carefully peeled or scraped off and none of the lids were even the slightest bit askew. Andross led Leon through one of the doors in the pasteboard walls. The door opened up to a small room concealing a black metal staircase that led to an upper story of the warehouse. Leon hadn’t noticed any stairs or upper floors earlier, but then again, the industrial lights did a lot to hide anything higher than their bright glare and the upper story lay comfortably in darkness. They wound their way up the staircase to a catwalk that ran the perimeter of the second story of the warehouse. Lit by soft-blue lights at floor-level, the stairs and catwalk would be near-invisible to anyone below. Plate-glass windows set periodically into the walls allowed glimpses into an extensive set of labs that dominated the second floor. The catwalk overhung the floor below by several feet, and anyone on the second floor could easily look down and survey the work going on below them while remaining in obscurity. Leon could see people down below shifting crates and preparing them for transport, but he still couldn’t tell what was in them. If only he could transmit video feed to Faye and Jet and not just audio. He whistled. This setup was more extensive than they thought.

“I apologize for Jag,” Andross said as they walked down the catwalk. “If I had my way, he’d disappear. But then I’d have to answer too many questions.”

Leon’s guess was confirmed. Andross wasn’t fronting this whole op by himself. Someone with deeper pockets and more manpower was putting up a good majority of it. That, or his superior didn’t trust him and sent henchmen like Jag to secretly oversee Andross. “Yeah, it sucks having to take orders from higher-ups, doesn’t it?” He put his hands in his pockets, fishing for a cigarette before he realized Jag had pocketed those too. He sighed.

Andross frowned, but he covered it quickly. “I can’t say it’s all bad,” he said like he was choosing his words carefully. “After all, orders or no, the drug is quite lucrative.”

“The Red-Eye?”

“I suppose you could still call it that. After all, Dragon’s Eye’s roots are in Red-Eye. But it’s much, much stronger.” Andross smiled mysteriously and ushered Leon through a door set next to one of the plate-glass windows. He unlocked it with a small plastic card he pulled from his pocket and ran through a scanner beside the door. The lights on the scanner turned green and there was a click as the door unbolted itself.

Leon noticed similar scanners next to each door on the second floor, all of them with solid red lights. Did that mean Andross locked his scientists in as well as his strangers out? With a shrug, Leon followed Andross into the lab. Although he’d noticed scientists working in several other rooms, there was no one in this one at present. Instead, the room was lit with a soft green glow and it was warmer in here than outside. Rows of low tables bisected the room full of dirt and small plants. Glass cases filmed with moisture covered the tables.

Andross walked over to a smaller case to one side of the room and lifted the glass lid. He withdrew a small tray from the case, full of seedlings just beginning to sprout. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

Leon gave it a second look. “It’s Grey Ash, isn’t it?”

 _Grey Ash?_ Jet sounded impressed.

“Precisely.”

“Isn’t that stuff rare though?” Leon asked.

“It was. It’s still not prolific, but Venus discovered a way to cultivate the plant after the outbreak of Venus sickness several years ago. It’s buyable now, but it costs.”

“I thought this stuff couldn’t grow on Venus,” Leon mused.

“Up until recently, it didn’t. But a few years ago, they found a way to mutate it so it would.  We’ve recreated those conditions here, in these incubators,” Andross gestured with the tray at the other tables in the room.

“Yeah, but all these plants here are babies,” Leon pointed out.

“We’re still being supplied largely by our carrier on Venus. Until we have enough of the stuff growing here, that is.” He slipped the tray of Grey Ash back into its incubator and shut the glass lid.

 _There you go, there’s proof. Villanova’s based on Venus, selling Grey Ash to this punk,_ Faye said.

 _See if you can’t get him to name his supplier, Leon,_ Jet said.

“So what exactly are you doing with it all?” Leon asked, brushing off the comments coming through his audio feed.

“Well, a few months ago, some Red-Eye makers started to experiment, adding different substances to the drug to enhance its effects. When the Red Dragon fell, so did the value of Red Eye. The Syndicate had a monopoly on it, so when they disappeared, so did most of the Red Eye makers. What was left of the drug was low quality stuff. No one wanted it. But, a few of the scientists figured out that if you add Grey Ash to Red Eye, even the low-grade stuff, the effects of the drug are increased exponentially. And, that being the case, the price increased exponentially as well.”

“Naturally,” Leon said.

“Where a few grams of Red Eye went for a couple hundred woolongs, this stuff goes for a couple thousand. And, not only do we have a nice supply of Grey Ash here to make the stuff, but we’re pretty much the monopoly on it, meaning we can charge as much as we want.”

“And that brings us to the deal my boss would like to offer you.”

“Go on,” Andross motioned for Leon to leave the room. Leon did and Andross followed, closing the door securely behind them.  

“You’ve got a nice establishment here. And you’ve got a plan for the future. Lucaza likes that. I take it that with the stash you’re growing here, you’re” Leon glanced around and lowered his voice, “looking to cut ties with your Venus supplier?”

Andross gave one slow nod and motioned for Leon to follow him once more. He led him down the catwalk and into another room guarded by a security scanner. This one didn’t take a card, but scanned Andross’ fingerprints instead. Andross lay a hand on the scanner, the light flashed green, and the door clicked open. Andross led Leon into a small private office with a desk, a computer, and a few filing cabinets. Otherwise the office was mostly bare with grey walls matching the grey doors and floors.

Once the door closed behind him, Andross relaxed. “We can talk freely here. My supplier has too many ears out there,” Andross waved a hand toward the warehouse. “But you’re right. I’m looking to split. My supplier’s too demanding. I’m not the only planet she ships this Grey Ash stuff to, but I’m her biggest seller and she’s upping her share of the cut. I’m not into that. I want to make my own profit and quit funding her little revenge campaign.”

 _Revenge?_ Faye asked. _Revenge on what?_

Leon almost shrugged before he realized the motion would be out of place.

“Offer me something less than what she’s taking,” Andross continued, “and I can pretty much guarantee you a deal. What does Lucaza want?”

“Lucaza will help you front this operation, cost, expenditure, whatever. He wants rights to the drug and use of your facility here. He’s even willing to let you take a cut of what he sells. You know, royalties.”

“And what does he get out of all this?” Andross asked.

“Do you realize what you’re sitting on, man?”

Andross raised an eyebrow.

“You’re sitting on the beginning of a Syndicate. A monopoly on a drug that no one else sells yet? A variation of Red-Eye? Hell, you could be the next Dragon. Add some fangs and there you go. Lucaza’s got the fangs, if you’ve got the guts. What do you say?”

Andross was silent for a long moment.

Leon was beginning to wonder if the man wasn’t as ambitious as he’d first thought. Would he take the deal? Or was he loyal to his Grey Ash supplier?

Finally, Andross spoke. “And what sort of trust do I have that this promise is real? I’d never even heard of Lucaza before he contacted me yesterday. How do I know he’s the real deal?”

 _Hook, line, and sinker,_ Jet murmured.

Leon slid the woolong card from an inner pocket of his jacket and flipped it between his fingers. “Call it an act of good faith. It’s yours no matter what your answer is. But this is the kind of money Lucaza’s sitting on. He’s been laying low for years, collecting agents and resources under the radar. Now he just needs a viable outlet to fund and he’ll have his Syndicate. And you won’t be dependent on your Venus supplier.” Leon held out the card.

Andross hesitated. “How much is on the card?”

“See for yourself,” Leon smiled.

Andross took the card and popped it into the computer on his desk. After a moment, the screen displayed 5,000,000 woolongs nicely nestled in a Ganymede bank ready for transfer.

Andross’ eye went wide. “Five million?”

Even Leon had to hide his surprise. They were laying it on a little thick, weren’t they? “How much Dragon’s Eye does that buy me?”

“For that much? Hell, you can have my whole stock.”

Leon laughed. “I don’t need that much. A few vials will do.”

“You can have the cream of the crop,” Andross muttered. He turned away from the computer. “C’mon, I’ll take you to the lab.”

When Andross turned his back, Leon took the moment to surreptitiously glance at his computer desk. Lying halfway under the computer was a piece of paper that looked like a shipping docket. Leon could only see the outermost edges of the docket, but one word caught his eye. A name. Villanova. And underneath? A shipping address on Venus.


	6. Session Six

“Told you we should have just gone to Venus in the first place,” Faye said, legs dangling over the arm of the navigator’s chair on the  _ Bebop’s  _ bridge.

“Better to make sure before running off on some wild goose chase. Imagine the fuss you’d make if we went straight there and she wasn’t there,” Jet said, crossing his arms. 

“Well, she is, so I wouldn’t fuss. I’d just say ‘I told you so’,” Faye said sweetly. 

Jet sighed. “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?” 

Faye smiled. 

Just then Leon climbed the stairs to the deck, wearing a fresh pair of jeans. He had a t-shirt draped over his shoulders as he toweled his hair dry, unabashedly displaying a few scars across his torso. Faye frowned. The clothes Leon was wearing used to be Spike’s. Leon didn’t notice her annoyance.

After picking up a few vials of Dragon’s Eye and collecting his gun, cigarettes, and lighter from Jag, Leon left the Lion’s Den. He’d met up with Jet at their arranged drop-off and the two had arrived back at the  _ Bebop  _ a few minutes ago. Leon immediately went to shower all of the make-up and hair product away. He’d rinsed his eyes several times as well, and although they looked better than before, he looked like the victim of a nasty case of pink-eye. 

“Oh look who it is!” Faye exclaimed as he looked up from under the towel. “Our resident addict has returned.” 

Leon stuck his tongue out at her. “Where’s Ed?” he asked. 

“She’s studying that Dragon’s Eye you brought back. Why?” Jet asked. 

“I need to talk to her about getting this stuff out of my eyes,” he tossed his towel onto the shogi board, scattering a few pieces. Jet winced. “Hey, careful!” 

“It’s not like we were gonna finish the game anyway,” Leon said, voice slightly muffled as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. “It’s been in stalemate for three days.”

Jet sighed. “Eh, you’re probably right. Maybe one day I’ll actually find a partner who likes the damn game.” 

Faye rolled her eyes. “Maybe you just need to find a new hobby, Jet.”

Jet shrugged. Leon leaned against the shogi table. “So, what’s our plan of action now?” 

“Head to Venus and get a jump on Villanova,” Jet said. “We’ve got confirmation that she’s there and one very good reason to leave Ganymede for a while.” 

“What’s that?” Faye asked. 

“Andross,” Leon and Jet both answered. 

Faye looked lost. 

“When Andross finds out that Lucaza doesn’t exist any more than his 5,000,000 woolongs, he’ll be pissed, to put it mildly,” Leon said.

“In which case, he’ll likely start a man-hunt for the lousy addict who bummed him out of his best drugs,” Jet said. 

“You’re the one who told him the crazy story in the first place!” Faye pointed accusingly at Leon. 

Leon rubbed his neck. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “I might’ve gotten carried away. But hey,” he spread his hands, “Jet told me to use whatever story I thought would work best.”

“You have just as much imagination and just as little foresight as Spike,” Faye grumbled. 

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

Faye had to smile. She’d used the same excuse on Jet many times. “It did,” she admitted. 

“So, on to Venus?” Leon asked. 

“On to Venus,” Jet agreed.

* * *

 

Leon found Ed in the living room, hunched over her computer in the floor behind the couch. In his few weeks with the  _ Bebop  _ he’d rarely seen Ed sit in a chair. She seemed to prefer hanging, dangling, and sprawling on the ship’s floor and other fixtures instead. She had her goggles on and her computer hooked up to a box with a scanner in it. A sample of the Dragon’s Eye sat in the scanner.

Leon sat down beside her. Ed didn’t look up from her screen. The gibberish flying across the screen at the speed of light made no sense to Leon, but Ed seemed to find something very interesting in it. She kept making small sounds of surprise and then whistled in appreciation. 

Finally, Leon couldn’t wait any longer. “What is it, Ed?” he asked. “What have you found?” 

“This stuff makes you go craaazy!” she exclaimed, swirling a finger in the air by her head. 

“Well, I knew that much,” Leon said, picking up a second vial of the stuff from the floor beside Ed. He held it up to the light. Dragon’s Eye was a thick, deep shade of purple and denser than Red Eye. Leon pulled the stopper out of the vial and gave it a sniff. He wrinkled his nose. It smelled sharper than Red Eye, something like cinnamon and musk. Not exactly pleasant. He stoppered the vial again.

Ed stopped typing and lifted her goggles. “No, I mean, really crazy,” she said. 

“Like worse than Red Eye?”

Ed nodded emphatically. “You know what Grey Ash is for, right?” 

“Curing Venus sickness.”

“Yup! But it does that by rearranging everything in your brain,” she twisted herself up in a knot, as if to demonstrate. 

“Rearrange your brain?” 

“You know, to teach it new tricks!” 

“So, what you mean is that this stuff actually changes the way a person’s body works?”

“Yup! Grey Ash introduces a new strain of antibodies that fight Venus sickness usually. But if you release this stuff,” she tapped the vial of Dragon’s Eye in Leon’s hand, “without any Venus sickness for it to attack, it goes after your brain instead!” she waved her fingers over Leon’s head. 

“How much of this do you have to take before it does that?” Leon asked. 

“Not much.” 

“How much would someone normally shoot up?” 

Ed looked up, tapping her chin. “I dunno,” she shrugged. “Ed doesn’t do drugs.” 

Leon frowned at her. “No kidding. I know you know, Ed. This stuff is science. You don’t have to do it to know how it works.” 

Ed grinned. “You’re right. Hmm...maybe half a millileter or so? Depends on the applicator they use.” 

“And how crazy would that make somebody?” 

“Madder than Red Eye, but they’d come down about the same time.” 

“So one or two uses of this isn’t going to affect anyone’s brain.”

“Not instantly,” Ed shook her head, goggles swaying from around her neck. 

“But if they kept taking it?”

“Brain short circuits,” Ed said, seizing up with arms and legs akimbo and a vacant look on her face.

“You mean, eventually they would get to the point where they wouldn’t be able to think for themselves anymore?”

“Exactly. All the wires cut, no more electricity. Everybody turns into a veeegaaataablee,” Ed slowly melted to the floor with a goofy smile.

“This is serious, Ed.” 

Ed sat up, losing the silly expression. “Very,” she said. She pointed at the computer screen where a display popped up. It showed two different molecular models. “This,” she tapped the model on the left, “is Grey Ash without any modifications.”

Leon leaned closer for a better look. 

“And this,” Ed tapped the model on the right, “is Grey Ash once it’s added to Red Eye. They do not match,” she proclaimed. 

Leon looked at the two models. They were nearly identical, except for a small spur that looked almost like a rose’s thorn sticking off of the Grey Ash/Red Eye model. “So what’s this?” he asked Ed, pointing at the thorn. 

“That’s the piece that sticks to your brain,” she said. “It grabs on like this,” she suddenly grabbed Leon’s head. 

“Hey!” he yelped, but her hand was firmly tangled in his hair. 

“And it never lets go.” Ed grinned wickedly. 

Leon looked up at her from under her arm. “There wouldn’t be a way to get Ed to let go, would there?” 

She laughed. “Of course, there is, silly. Ed doesn’t want to be stuck to Leo all the time.” She let go. He resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair. 

“Hey, Ed?” 

“Yup?” she was staring at her computer again, enhancing the images of the two models. 

“That dye you had Faye put in my eyes. You did say it washes out, right?” 

“Sure. Why?” she asked. But Leon detected the beginning of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

“Because now I look like I’m addicted to Pink Eye instead of Red Eye.”

This time Ed giggled. 

“Aw, c’mon! Don’t tell me it stays!”

Ed shook her head. “It doesn’t.” 

Leon sighed. 

“It will take some time, but it will wash out. Ed promises!” She crossed her heart with a finger and laid her hand over it. 

“Whatever you say, Ed,” Leon said, but he couldn’t hide the relief in his voice.

He stood up. 

“Hey, Leo?” Ed asked as he was about to leave. 

“Yeah?” he turned around. 

“Can I have some of your blood?”

“My blood?” 

“Yeah, you know. For DNA.” 

“Uh, sure, I guess.”

Without looking over at him, Ed held out a small needle and a little plastic dish. 

“You were ready for this!?”

“Ed’s always ready.” She grinned.


	7. Session Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some specific dates for when Jet and Spike met and such. I've tried to fit them into the Cowboy Bebop canon timeline as best as I can figure it so that everybody's ages/timelines mash up. I don't know that any of these dates actually get mentioned in the show, so I'm rolling with what I've found so far

“So, what’s our first step?” Leon asked, leaning over the back of the couch to watch the computer screen over Jet’s shoulder. The  _ Bebop  _ was en route to Venus.

“Well, first thing we gotta do is locate Villanova and find out what sort of protection she’s got. We know she’s here, now we just need to figure out how we’re going to take her down.” 

“At least we don’t have to worry about accidentally destroying her,” Faye said as she walked up the stairs from the  _ Bebop _ ’s lower decks. 

“Accidentally destroying her?” Leon raised an eyebrow. 

“Accidents were Spike’s specialty,” Faye said. “Unless you do those too?” 

“Not on purpose,” Leon smirked. 

Faye rolled her eyes. “Of course not. How much bounty do we get if we bring her in in pieces, Jet?” 

“None,” Jet said. “So no fooling around. She’s a military bounty and they want to question her so this needs to be done carefully.”

“Right, I can do that,” Leon said. 

Jet gave him a hard look. 

“Look, it’s not like causing accidents is genetic. Besides, we don’t even know for sure that I’m related to Spi--” 

“Leo! Faye Faye! Jet! Look at this!” Ed came skidding into the living room with Ein close at her heels, barking happily. 

She was holding a small plastic tray in one hand and a toothbrush in the other. Leon recognized the tray as the one he’d given Ed a drop of blood in. He felt his stomach do a flip-flop.

“What is it, Ed?” Faye asked. 

“I’ve been doing research!” she declared. 

“On the Dragon’s Eye?” Jet asked, turning around to face Ed. 

“With a toothbrush?” Faye asked. 

“No, not the Dragon’s Eye. On Leo!” 

Jet and Faye both looked at Leon. He gave them an I-have-no-idea-what-she-means gesture. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“And?” Jet said softly. 

“This is Spike person’s toothbrush,” Ed declared proudly, holding up the toothbrush like it was a flag. 

The rest of the room looked confused. 

Ed sighed and rolled her eyes like they all should know what she meant. “And this,” she held out the plastic tray, “is some of Leo’s blood.”

“And?” Jet prompted again. 

“And they match!” Ed announced, holding the toothbrush and the tray next to each other. 

Leon gripped the back of the couch, suddenly feeling like his knees might go out.  

“I told you it was in the blooood,” Ed chirped. She put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t find the wrong person after all, Faye Faye.” 

Leon sat down on the back of the couch. 

“You ok, kid?” Jet asked. 

“Yeah,” Leon nodded. “Yeah, fine.” 

“That’s not possible!” Faye exclaimed. 

“What do you mean?” Ed asked. 

“I mean...it’s just not...Spike never said anything. He never told m--us,” Faye said. When she looked over at him, there was something intense in her gaze that made Leon squirm.

“Look, Faye,” he held up his hands. “We still don’t know for sure about this. I mean, this is just a highly likely thing, right? Ed?” 

Ed shook her head, oblivious to the sudden emotion in the room. “Nope, this is science, Leo. Besides, Tomato doesn’t lie. You are the son of Spike person.”

“Ok, but you can’t tell me you got valid DNA off a fifteen-year-old toothbrush,” Faye accused. 

“Nope!” Ed said. “Ed already had Spike person’s DNA in the computer. The toothbrush was just for effect.”

“Damn, Spike and Julia,” Jet muttered. “Who would have known?” 

“Why would he hide something like this from everybody?” Faye demanded. “It doesn’t make sense.” 

“Unless,” Leon said, licking his lips. “Unless he wasn’t hiding it.” 

“What?” Faye asked.

“I...I don’t think Spike knew about me.” 

Jet looked up at Leon. 

“Jet, when did you meet Spike?” 

“It was April or May of 2067, why?” 

“Because,” Leon said. “I wasn’t born until August 2067. Spike never told you guys about me because he never knew I existed.”

“And I’m supposed to believe Julia never told him?” Faye asked. 

“Yes,” Leon said, hand to his forehead. “Jet, you told me that Spike left the Syndicate but Julia stayed, right?” 

Jet nodded. 

“And they didn’t have any contact after that, right?” 

“Not for several years.” 

“Yeah, and by that time, Julia didn’t have me. Julia left me in an orphanage and told them it was because it was too dangerous to raise me. She didn’t want to raise me in a Syndicate. Spike got out of the Syndicate. Who knows what Julia thought--maybe she thought telling Spike would drag him back to the Syndicate, maybe she was mad that he left--but she didn’t say anything about me. Spike never knew me.”

“That means she took your secret to the grave,” Jet said. “And even if she did tell Spike at their last meeting, he...didn’t make it...” Jet trailed off.

“Yeah,” Leon breathed. “I get the feeling she wanted me to stay in obscurity.” 

“Except you ended up as a Cowboy,” Faye said. “Just like your father. Imagine that.”

“Well, I didn’t know he was a Cowboy.” Leon shrugged. “I just thought it would be an exciting life.” 

“It’s not glamorous,” Jet said. “But it pays the bills.” 

“You know, most of the time,” Faye sighed. 

Ed scooped Ein off the floor, trading the dish and toothbrush for the dog. “You knew all along, Ein, didn’t you?” 

He barked and licked her face.

“It’s kind of hard not to notice the resemblance,” Jet said. 

“And you act just like him too,” Faye sighed dramatically. 

“Sorry?” Leon spread his hands and shrugged. He looked over at Ed who was still snuggling Ein. “Thanks, Ed,” he said softly. 

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Ed grinned. “This is Ed’s job. Ed likes doing this kind of stuff.” She winked as she pulled her goggles over her eyes and left the room. 

Leon slung his legs over the back of the couch and slid down until he was sitting beside Jet, heels on the edge of the couch, knees updrawn. He still felt like he’d been punched in the gut. 

“It’s almost like we’ve got the old crew back, isn’t it Faye?” Jet asked. 

“Yeah,” Faye smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Almost.” 


	8. Session Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that in the tech heavy world of Cowboy Bebop, paper trails are harder to follow than online trails, because they don't leave a trace beyond their physical presence. They are also easier to destroy more permanently and would remain 'hidden' unless someone got their hands on the paper directly. At least, that's how I see it ;)

Ed had a decidedly unusual walk. It was something lanky and long, all limbs and liquid grace. Leon was pretty sure Ed could melt into a human puddle if she wanted to. The soft clap of her shoes against the pavement surprised him. He’d half expected her to wander through town barefoot, like she did on the  _ Bebop.  _ After landing on Venus, she and Leon were sent to do some low-level reconnaissance in town while Jet and Faye stocked up on supplies for their stay here _. _ Leon and Ed were meandering aimlessly through the streets, hoping to find a sign of anything related to the Dragon’s Eye. They passed a pool hall Leon recognized.

“That’s where I caught my first bounty,” he said, gesturing at the hall.

“Playing pool?” Ed asked, peering through the window on the outside of the hall.

“Well, I wasn’t playing pool at the time, but I do play,” Leon said. He’d been chasing an easy bountyhead, a local criminal who’d gotten too big for his britches. The punk wasn’t expecting a kid to chase him down. Which is what helped Leon get close. Pretending to be a potential buyer for the illegal weapons the man was selling provided him plenty of cover and the rest was a cinch. The man didn’t put up much of a fight after Leon broke a cue stick over his head. Leon had promptly blown the bounty afterward, but he’d been young. Well, younger. He laughed to himself. At this rate, he was always going to be young and inexperienced.

“Ed doesn’t remember her first bounty,” Ed said, leaving the window and walking down the street again. 

“Do you even catch anybody anyway?” Leon asked, falling into step beside her. He found it difficult to match her meandering pace. 

“Nope!” Ed declared. She didn’t seem offended by the question. “Not in person. Ed catches all her little fishies online.” 

Leon nodded. “That’s true. I’d hate to try to hide in the cyber world from you.” 

“Villanova’s doing it,” Ed growled.

Leon raised an eyebrow. He’d rarely ever seen Ed upset about anything.

“How do you think she’s managing?” 

Ed shrugged. “Two things.” She held up two long, slender fingers. “One,” she folded one finger. “She doesn’t exist online because she’s a sneaky, sneaky spider. Or two,” she folded the second finger into a fist. “She’s better than Ed.”

Leon had never seen Ed make any sign of aggression before. “Better than you? Online? I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“Everything is possible,” Ed shrugged, but she was frowning. 

“Well, let’s just go with option one for now. She’s probably keeping herself off the web. After all, I saw her name on a paper docket back on Ganymede. And nobody uses paper unless they’re trying to hide.”

“Paper’s untraceable,” Ed agreed. “And it can disappear. Poof.” Ed snapped her fingers and waved her hands like she was doing some sort of disappearing magic trick.

“Right. So how many shipping ops would run on a paper trail?” 

“Ed doesn’t think we should start with the ships,” Ed shook her head. “Ed thinks we should start with the drugs.” 

“With the Dragon’s Eye?”

“With it’s pieces,” Ed nodded. 

“So, the Grey Ash?” 

Ed nodded harder. 

“You want to check out the pharmacies? See who’s supplying an inordinate amount of Grey Ash to a hidden contractor?”

“Yup!” Ed slipped her goggles over her head and held out her hand like she wanted Leon to take it. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Ed’s your blind sister with Venus sickness and you’re looking for a cure.”

“Ed, we look nothing alike.” 

“Ed’s your fifth cousin twice removed on your mom’s brother’s dog’s side then!” she declared brightly. 

Leon laughed. “Sure, cos, whatever you say.” He took Ed’s hand and the two headed into town.   

* * *

 

“One last stop and we’re good to go,” Jet said, readjusting the bags of supplies he held in his mechanical arm.

“One more,” Faye moaned, staggering under her own load of supplies. “I don’t think I can walk that far.” 

“It’s your own fault for buying an entirely new wardrobe just to spend a few weeks on Venus,” Jet pointed out. 

“You know I haven’t bought new clothes for  _ ages,  _ Jet,” she said. “Besides, I hardly had an adequate wardrobe for Venus.” 

“And what kind of wardrobe do you need on Venus?” 

“I might tell you if you tell me what ‘one last stop’ you need to make.” 

“I was going to pick up the parts to repair the  _ Swordfish’ _ s MONO computer. You know it had a few bugs the last time we took it out.” 

“Why would you need to repair the  _ Swordfish’ _ s MONO computer?” 

“So we can use it.” 

“We haven’t been using it before,” Faye pointed out.

“I have a feeling we might be needing it on this mission.” 

“Why’s that? You don’t think my _Redtail’_ s good enough?”

Jet pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your  _ Redtail _ ’s fine. However, I think now would be a good time to let you know I gave the  _ Swordfish _ to Leon.”

“You gave  _ what _ to Leon?!” Faye demanded, stopping dead in her tracks.

“The  _ Swordfish _ ,” Jet said slowly, stopping as well.

“You gave him Spike’s ship? You know Spike would kill you for giving his  _ Swordfish  _ away.” 

Jet turned to face her. “Why else do you think the kid sold his  _ Shark _ ? I offered him the ship when he joined. We both know Spike isn’t coming back to use her. What else was I supposed to do with her?” 

“And just when were you planning on telling me you’re giving away Spike’s stuff, huh?”

“I didn’t think it was important. It’s not like you use the  _ Swordfish  _ anyway. What were you planning to do with her? Let her sit like she has these past fifteen years?” Jet asked. 

Faye scowled, but she didn’t have an answer. 

“I thought so. Faye, you’ve got to let go. We’ve talked about this. It’s not healthy to keep hanging on to Spike. He’s not coming back. Much as we hate it, we’ve got to face it. We can’t let nostalgia get in our way. Leon’s the rightful owner of Spike’s stuff now anyway.” 

“But giving away the  _ Swordfish? _ A hundred woolongs Leon wrecks the thing in a week, Jet.” 

“At least it would cost me less than your gambling habits,” he muttered. 

“Hey!”

“Look, it’s not like the  _ Swordfish  _ is going to bring Spike back. Besides, Leon’s as much in love with her as Spike was.” 

“And you know how that turned out.” Faye rolled her eyes. “Spike was always riddling that ship with holes.”  

“And patching her up. Just wait, I think Leon will amount to more than you think.”

“Oh, so that’s it,” Faye accused.

“What’s it?” 

“You think Leon will replace Spike. You’re ready to hand the kid all of Spike’s stuff so you can feel like you’ve got your old partner back again.”

Jet sighed. “No, Faye, I don’t want to replace Spike. That’s wishful thinking and you know it. Leon may be Spike’s son, but he’s not Spike. You need to stop looking at him like he is.” 

“I am not--” 

Jet held his non-mechanical hand up and interrupted Faye. 

“Yes, you are. Faye, I don’t want to cut you out of this mission, but you’re letting your feelings cloud your judgement on this one. We could use your help catching Villanova, but I can’t have a cock-eyed first mate. So can you bury the past for this one or not?”

Faye was silent for a long moment. She bit her lip. “You know you can trust me, Jet.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Jet said. “It’s your emotions.” 

Faye took a slow, deep breath. “I can handle it, Jet. You can count on me.” 

Jet gave Faye a long nod and held out his hand. After several moments of parcel juggling, she shook.

“Now let’s get that part so you can go try on your new clothes.” 

Faye stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

 

“No luck there,” Leon said, looking at the map of Venus displayed on his phone. He crossed another pharmacy off the map. He and Ed had looked up a list of the pharmacies in town and started methodically hitting them one by one, plying each with a list of questions under the guise of looking for a cure for Ed’s “Venus sickness.” Ed did an excellent performance as a quiet, unassuming blind girl with a knack for bumping into things. Leon quickly came to find out that Ed was playing for real and probably walking around with her eyes closed under her reflective goggles. If he wasn’t careful with his instructions or guidance, she’d walk into doors and walls or trip over loose stones and objects on the ground. At this point, Leon felt himself qualified to be a passable guide for a real blind person.

Ed was even playing the part in the street outside the pharmacies. Despite his insisting that she didn’t have to carry the charade that far, Ed kept up the game no matter where they went. Eventually Leon gave up trying to talk her out of it. Ed was Ed and there was no changing her mind.

“It looks like we’ve been to every pharmacy on the planet,” Leon sighed. 

“Nooot yeeet,” Ed said in a sing-song voice. 

“What? How do you even know that?” Leon looked up from his phone to find Ed absently staring off into space. 

She just giggled. 

Leon looked back down at his list. Ed was right; there was one pharmacy he’d missed. It was in a poor part of town, located in a side street that was barely more than an alley. They found the place after about fifteen minutes of walking. Leon almost passed the alley on the first go. The buildings on the alley were mostly empty. Only three or four of them seem occupied and those only looked halfway legitimate.

“C’mon, this is way too obvious,” Leon grumbled as they started down the alley. The place certainly looked seedy enough to be dealing underhanded Grey Ash to Dragon’s Eye dealers. 

“The thing you want to find is always right under your nose,” Ed quipped, like she was quoting some kind of profound prophecy. 

“But this?” Leon gestured at the grimy alley, completely aware that Ed might not even be looking at what he was showing her. “This is too cliche.” He shook his head and pocketed his phone as they reached the pharmacy. A grey sign with faded green letters proclaimed the tiny building to be R. Blanche and Sons, Apothecarie and Physick Shop. No one called a pharmacy a Physick Shop anymore. How freaking old was this building anyway? It looked like someone might have plucked it off of Earth and dropped it on Venus. The building was tiny, a two story brick affair squashed between empty buildings that had probably been warehouses at some point. The shop windows were clean but permanently smudged with the odd glaze of aged glass. The paint was faded, the store so small that Leon doubted it even supplied the surrounding neighborhood with Grey Ash, let alone a major drug dealer. Something about the building made Leon pause. It reminded him way too much of the Lion’s Den.

“Well, are we going in?” Ed asked. 

“Yeah, of course,” Leon said, not wanting to let Ed sense his hesitation.

The two walked into the shop, a small bell tinkling overhead as Leon opened the door. He guided Ed through it and took the time to look around. The shop was full of shelves with just enough room for one person to wind their way between them. The shelves stood about as tall as Ed and were, as far as Leon could tell, covered in a legitimate display of various remedies for anything from a headache to the Space Flu. A wooden counter stood at the far end of the shop, opposite the door, and a locked glass case sat behind that, displaying medicines you had to have a prescription to buy. With the neighborhood this place was in, Leon was surprised they didn’t have all their drugs locked up. 

Despite the fact that the store was well-stocked, Leon didn’t see anyone working the counter.

“Here, hold onto my shirt,” he said, transferring Ed’s hand to the back of his shirt. He didn’t even stop to think about it this time. “The shelves are really narrow in here, so you’ll need to walk behind me.”

Ed nodded emphatically.

Leon rolled his eyes. He was going to go back to the  _ Bebop  _ and slip up and start describing things to Faye or Jet and they were going to think he was crazy. He started walking through the shelves toward the counter, the gentle tug on his shirt telling him Ed was following. She ran her free hand lightly over the shelf beside her, as if to get her bearings. She’d done this in all the pharmacies they’d been in and Leon was starting to wonder if she was doing something more than just feeling her way around.

As they neared the counter an older man with grey hair and a large mustache stepped out of a doorway behind the counter. Although his hair was grey, his eyes were a bright, vivid green. He wore an old-fashioned apron and white hat like Leon had seen in pictures of drug stores from over a hundred years ago. “Hello,” he greeted Leon and Ed with a pleasant tone. “Can I help you?” 

Leon cleared his throat. “Uh, yes, well, um,” he stepped to the side so that Ed had enough room to stand beside him in front of the counter. She instinctively stepped forward when he reached for her hand. 

“This is my cousin, Edwina.” Ed gave a wave to somewhere on the man’s left. “And she’s got Venus sickness pretty bad. It’s made her go blind. We’re from out of town and we’ve come a long way to see about getting a cure for her. I’m looking to see if you’ve got Grey Ash in stock.” 

The man gave Ed a long, hard look. Just when he thought he was sure the man had seen through their plan and was about to call them out on it, he shook his head. 

“Sorry, lad, I’m all out of Grey Ash at the moment.” 

“All out?” Leon let his voice take a desperate note. “But, sir, you’re the only place I was told I could get it!” 

“Why don’t you try the other pharmacies in town, boy? Someone’s sure to have a bit of the Ash lying around.” 

“I have tried the others, and I couldn’t afford any of the Grey Ash there. But they told me to come down here and see what you had.” He was making lies up off the top of his head now, but judging by the shop’s appearances and the prices he’d seen on some of the drugs up front, it looked like this would be the place to come for cheap cures. 

The man sighed. “If you’d a come on Tuesday, I woulda still had a small stock. As it is, I’ve been bought out and I’m waiting on my own stock to come in. Here,” he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled a note on it. “What’s your name, kid?” he asked. 

“Leo-roy,” Leon stumbled over his name, realizing at the last second he probably shouldn’t give out a real one.

The man raised an eyebrow. 

“Leroy Russell,” Leon said, this time without stumbling. 

“Alright, Leroy Russell,” the man said in a tone that indicated he knew the name was fake. He still wrote it on the top of the piece of paper. “If you go to these coordinates, they’ll set you up with some Grey Ash for your ‘cousin.’”

Leon didn’t miss the glance the man gave Ed. Ed grinned, but she was looking at a place over the man’s shoulder. Then again, with her eyes covered by those goggles, she could’ve been looking anywhere and no one would know. 

“Really? Thanks,” Leon said with fake eagerness. After a quick glance at the paper, he stuffed it in his pocket. 

“Now, can I do anything else for you?” the man asked. 

“No, thanks, sir. I’d better get my cousin something to eat.” Leon leaned closer like he was telling the man something confidential. “I’ve been dragging her across Venus all day.”

“You got the money for a meal?” the man asked. Leon couldn’t decide if it was genuine concern in his voice or not. 

“Yeah,” Leon nodded. “We’ve got some relatives in town who are putting us up for now. Thanks again, mister,” Leon gave the man a loose salute then turned to Ed. “C’mon, cos, let’s go,” he spun her around gently, walking her in front of him this time. He had the distinct feeling of two eyes boring holes into his back as he opened the door for Ed and ushered her out into the street. As soon as they were far enough away from the pharmacy, he dropped her hand, intending to walk back to the  _ Bebop  _ like normal, but Ed immediately tripped on an uneven piece of sidewalk when he let go. “Leroy!” she yelped as if startled.

“Oh, c’mon, Ed,” he exclaimed, a bit fed up with her antics now. 

But Ed just reached out for his hand again and he let her take it, leading her down the street once more. She played blind until they got back on deck at the  _ Bebop.  _ As soon as her feet touched the deck, she whipped off her goggles and sat down to take off her shoes. 

“What was that all about, huh?” Leon asked. 

“What?” Ed looked up at him puzzled. 

“The silly charade! Why’d you insist you play blind till we got back here?” 

“You didn’t see them?” Ed asked. 

“See what?” 

“Ed was blind but she saw them.” 

“Saw what, Ed?” Leon asked, feeling his patience slip. 

“Ed spied, with her blind little eye, two ugly spies, watching our lies.” She recited the little line like it was a nursery rhyme.

“Wait, spies? We were being followed?”

Ed nodded. “Yup! Trailed and tracked and brick-a-bracked.” 

“What does that even mean?” 

Ed grinned her customary bright grin. 

Leon sighed. “They didn’t follow us back to the  _ Bebop  _ did they?” 

“Nope! We lost them a loooooooong time ago.”

“You mean I still walked you all the way back here like you were blind for no reason?”

“That was for calling Ed Edwina!” Shoeless, Ed jumped up and laughed. She scampered off into the  _ Bebop. _

“Ed!” Leon dashed after her. “Ed, you get back here!”

 


	9. Session Nine

“Find anything interesting in town?” Jet asked. He was restocking the fridge in the  _ Bebop _ ’s living room. Leon gave up chasing Ed when she slipped into the storage room. He’d never find her there unless she let him.

“Maybe,” Leon shrugged. He flopped on the couch.

“My, someone’s out of breath,” Faye commented. She emerged from below decks, her hair up in a towel. She was wearing a new shirt and skirt that was skittishly close to revealing something it shouldn’t. She carried a bag full of nail polish over to the coffee table and dumped it out with a clatter. Leon winced, but miraculously none of the bottles broke. Faye plopped herself in a nearby chair and started sorting colors. 

“Yeah, well, I was chasing Ed,” Leon said.

“You were chasing Ed?” Jet asked. “I thought you guys were working together.” 

“We were,” Leon smirked. “But then I called her Edwina and she made me escort her all the way back here, so our partnership kind of crumbled.” He shrugged. 

Jet laughed. “Edwina?”

“It’s a long story.” 

“Glad to see the two of you working together so well,” Jet said, half sarcastic and half serious.

Leon grinned. 

Faye rolled her eyes and selected a cherry red polish from the jumble on the table. “So, did you learn anything useful?” she asked. 

Leon pulled the piece of crumpled paper from the pharmacy out of his pocket. “Yeah, maybe,” he said again. Jet finished stocking the fridge and sat down beside Leon on the couch. 

“Whatcha got?” he asked. 

Leon spread the paper on the table. “Well, Ed and I decided to check the pharmacies in town and see if we could find one that was selling a crap ton of Grey Ash.”

“And the pharmacies just answered your questions?” Jet asked. 

“Pretty much,” Leon shrugged. “Ed was masquerading as my blind, Venus-sick cousin so they were mostly cooperative.”

“Ed, blind? Whose idea was that?” Faye asked. 

“Ed’s, actually,” Leon said. 

Faye laughed. “Genius.”

“Yeah, except for the part where she decided she’d be blind all the way back to the  _ Bebop  _ and trip every five seconds if I didn’t hold her hand,” Leon raised his voice in case Ed was listening. He could swear he heard a snicker.  “Anyway,” he continued, “we found that most of the pharmacies had a full stock and nobody seemed to be sending it off-planet. Except this one little place in a back alley that looks like an Earth shop. He didn’t have any Grey Ash left, said he’d been cleaned out on Tuesday. But he told me I could get some here.” Leon tapped the piece of paper.

“This is just a bunch of coordinates,” Jet muttered.

Faye glanced at the paper. “Leroy?” she arched an eyebrow at the false name, her brush poised on the edge of the bottle. 

“I had to come up with it in a hurry, ok?” Leon felt the heat rush to his cheeks. 

“So, what’re the coordinates for?” Faye asked.

“That’s just it. I don’t know. I got this funny feeling the guy here knew we were lying to him, so I don’t know if this actually leads to Grey Ash or maybe to Dragon’s Eye.” 

“Or maybe to the end of a gun,” Jet said. 

Leon nodded. “That too.” 

“We can trace the coordinates, right?” Faye asked, neatly applying paint to her pinky toe. “Then we might know which of those lovely options we’re facing.”

“Sure,” Jet agreed. “We can just get Ed to track it down on Tomato.” Jet looked over at Ein who was lounging beside the couch. “Ein, c’mon boy.” Ein looked up and wriggled his butt, tongue lolling. “C’mon,” Jet motioned with his hand and Ein jumped to his feet. “Go find Ed, Ein. Bring Ed, boy.” Jet said. 

Ein wiggled his butt harder and barked twice. Then he put his nose to the ground and meandered out of the living room. 

“Does that actually work?” Leon asked, incredulous. 

“Most of the time,” Faye shrugged and painted another toe nail. 

She was just finishing her last toe when Ein trotted back in the room barking happily. Ed followed the little Corgi proudly displaying her shirt for all to see. Leon found himself the only one surprised that Ed was running around in her bra.

“What did you do to your shirt, Ed?” Jet asked.

Ed had drawn a grid on her shirt with marker, dividing the surface into even squares. Blotches of various colors filled the center of each square. Above each blotch, Ed had written a few numbers, like she was cataloging each stain on the shirt. 

“Research!” Ed declared proudly. It was her default answer to most questions about what she’d been doing.

“Research?” Jet raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, on the Grey Ash we picked up.”

“But we didn’t get any Grey Ash,” Leon said. 

“You mean,  _ you _ didn't get any Grey Ash,” she said. “Ed was taking samples the whooole time.” 

And suddenly Leon remembered that Ed had been running her hands over shelves, counters, and cases in every pharmacy they’d been in. She’d wipe her hand on her t-shirt afterward, but he hadn’t paid it much attention. Apparently she’d wiped her hand on her shirt in a different place each time and that was now what they were seeing in the grid. Traces of whatever she’d found in each pharmacy. 

“You devil! So that’s why you pretended to be blind!” he exclaimed. 

Ed nodded. 

“I don’t get it,” Faye said. She was painting her left hand now.

“Ed was pretending to use the counters and shelves in all the pharmacies for balance. But she was really picking up traces of dust and residue, and wiping them on her shirt,” Leon elaborated. 

“Brilliant,” Jet laughed. “So, what’s with the different colors, Ed?” 

“That’s just dye,” Ed waved a hand dismissively. “That way the microscope can take a look-see.” She peered closely at the shirt like she was the microscope.

“And what did you find?” Leon asked. 

“Well,” Ed declared. “This, she pointed at a grey smudge at the bottom right of her shirt, is that last shop we went into. The one who said his Ash was all blown away.” She made a motion with her hand to indicate wind. “And it’s an exact match for the evil purple head-grabbing monster Leon found on Ganymede!”

“Evil purple head-grabbing monster…” Jet muttered, shaking his head. “I take it you mean the Dragon’s Eye?” 

“Yup!”

“Ed said that the Dragon’s Eye will destroy your brain,” Leon explained. “The mix of Red-Eye and Gray Ash produces a warped antibody that goes directly to your head. You take enough of this stuff and you pretty much go brain dead.”

Ed nodded again.

“That’s nasty stuff,” Jet said.

“It looks like we’ve found our provider though,” Faye said. 

“Yeah,” Leon agreed. “Now we just need to find our backer.”

“She’s here somewhere,” Jet said. “Or at least, she frequents the area. We need to find her base of operations.” 

“Well, I doubt it’s that pharmacy directly,” Leon said. 

Jet shook his head. “Too obvious. And I doubt it’s this place either.” He picked up the piece of paper on the coffee table. “Hey, Ed, if you’re done researching, you want to look something up for us?” 

“Sure!” Ed dropped her shirt on the floor. “Let Ed grab Tomato.” She skipped off down the hallway.

Ein curiously sniffed at Ed’s shirt. He sneezed violently and decided it wasn’t worth his effort. He sat down beside the fridge instead.

A few moments later Ed returned, balancing Tomato precariously on her head. She had a fresh white t-shirt on. She sat down cross-legged in the floor, and put her computer in front of her. “OK, hit me,” she said, cracking her knuckles.

Jet read her the coordinates.

Ed typed them into her computer. She scrolled the results for a few seconds. “It’s one of the floating islands out in the desert,” she finally said. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything important on it.” 

“Well, that’s not sketchy at all,” Faye sighed, working on her right hand now. 

“I’m leaning toward the gun,” Leon admitted. 

Jet scratched his chin. “It’s all we have to go on though. I think we should check it out.” 

“Naturally,” Faye agreed.

“You think we can try the addict thing again?” Leon asked. 

Jet shook his head. “Too risky. We’ve run that scheme already. And if Andross mentioned anything to Villanova about it, she might get suspicious. Besides, we don’t know that this actually has anything to do with Dragon’s Eye.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Faye winked at Leon as she painted her last fingernail. “I was looking forward to playing stylist again.” 

“I was thinking the more experienced, world weary one of us could play the part instead of -- what was it? -- the untried colt.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Faye demanded. “Are you calling me old?” 

“Well, you are older than me,” he said. 

Faye looked like she was about to retort, but Jet interrupted. “That’s enough, you two. We’re not sending anybody in based on their age,” Jet rolled his eyes. He was the oldest one here (not counting Faye’s little expedition with cryogenics) and you didn’t hear him complaining. “I say we just go in tonight with a little back-up, do some reconnaissance, and get out.”

“Sure,” Faye agreed. She held her freshly painted nails up to the light, turning them this way and that to admire them.  “Only who’s going in and who’s playing backup?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to spoil those fresh nails, Ms. Valentine,” Jet smiled.

* * *

 

“And why am I playing backup?” Faye fumed as she took a seat in the _Redtail_. She’d tuned her com to a private channel with Jet only. She started her flight sequence. Ed had figured the _Swordfish_ at her fastest could reach the island in about forty-five minutes. Since Jet and Faye were flying the _Hammerhead_ and the _Redtail,_ it would take about an hour. “I’m good in a fight too, you know.”

“I know you are,” Jet’s voice crackled back from his  _ Hammerhead  _ as his engines thrummed to life. “But I also know that you’re good as backup.”

“Oh, and you don’t trust the kid to do it?” she asked. 

“No, I trust Leon, but he’s inexperienced.” 

“So you’re taking him into a potential firefight.” 

Jet sighed. “Faye, he’s a Cowboy. I know he knows how to use his gun. But he’s been working solo this whole time. Which means no rescue missions. Besides, this is the first time he’s flown the  _ Swordfish. _ I want him to have a little more practice before he’s got to make an emergency extraction with her.”

Faye rolled her eyes even though she knew Jet couldn’t see her. It was just like Jet to jump the gun one minute then turn into the paragon of caution the next. “So you hand him the ship, but you don’t think he can use it. What did I tell you? He’s going to crash it.” 

She could almost hear Jet grinding his teeth. “Just play your part, Faye, and keep your engines running.” 

“Roger, Captain,” she purred. “Over and out.”

She heard the slight click as the com line shut off and she sat back in the pilot’s seat. She had to admit, she’d seen the same light in Leon’s eyes as Spike always had when the boy jumped into the cockpit of the  _ Swordfish. _ But instead of the confidence it instilled in Jet, it just made her stomach do flip-flops. Why did Spike have to go and have a son who looked so damn like him? 

Faye took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She’d shot her gun that night. At first, she’d aimed it at his back. Maybe she could make him stay. But in the end she’d pointed it at the ceiling before she’d pulled the trigger. He hadn’t even turned around. But she thought Spike probably knew. And he’d gone to fight the Dragon anyway. 

“Damn you, Spike. Why’d you have to be so bull-headed?” She opened her eyes and slammed her hands on either side of the  _ Redtail’ _ s control panel. Something on the panel made a disdainful beep. “You thought you had it under control, didn’t you? You didn’t stop to think about what it might do to the rest of us when you left, did you?”

Faye was surprised when the hot tears fell down her nose, splashing her controls.

“Damn you, Spike Spiegel,” she swore again.

* * *

 

Leon revved the engine of the  _ Swordfish  _ and felt the ship shudder to life beneath him. She was an old-fashioned beauty with a rugged sort of charm and Leon took to her controls instinctively. He’d flown a few ships in his lifetime, but nothing that responded this smoothly. And this was just in the hangar. He engaged the engine and a trail of brilliant blue flared to life at her tail. Leon opened the throttle and slewed out of the hangar, wheels lifting instantly from the  _ Bebop _ ’s deck.

The  _ Hammerhead  _ and the  _ Redtail _ didn’t immediately follow. Leon was about to radio in, but then he realized Jet and Faye were in radio silence on his end. Leon shrugged. Might as well stall and find out what this baby could do. He pointed the  _ Swordfish’s  _ nose toward the stars then took her into a stomach-dropping dive toward the sand below. He’d give himself a ten mile radius to explore and wait for the others to catch up. 

As he put the  _ Swordfish  _ through her motions, he frowned. Something was causing tension between Jet and Faye, and he was pretty sure it was him. He’d seen the absent frowns Faye gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Despite Jet’s willingness to let him use anything and everything on the  _ Bebop,  _ including stuff that belonged to Spike, Faye didn’t seem so enamored. The other night Jet had suggested they clean out Spike’s old room so that Leon didn’t have to sleep on the couch. Faye subtly resisted the idea, but Jet didn’t pick up on her hint. She finally agree only if she was the one allowed to clean out Spike’s room before Leon moved in. 

Leon had suggested he just stay on the couch and keep the status quo, but that had been met with some stony glares. He’d slipped away after that to sit in the bridge, but he knew Jet and Faye stayed in the living room for close to an hour afterward talking heatedly.

An urgent blip from his dashboard suddenly brought Leon into the present and he looked up to find a rapidly approaching wall of rock and sand. He must’ve slipped into a desert canyon without realizing it. Just then his radio burst with static and Jet’s voice broke his concentration. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going, kid!” 

“I know, I know,” Leon shouted back, pulling the  _ Swordfish  _ into a steep climb. The ship responded instantly, taking the climb easily. He whipped past the canyon wall with inches to spare. He let out an elated whoop as he cleared the canyon, then let the  _ Swordfish  _ fall into a tight spiral back to the desert floor. He swooped upward just before striking the sand and leveled off. He noticed the  _ Hammerhead  _ and the  _ Redtail  _ on the horizon, following him.

“What are you doing?” Jet demanded. 

“Having fun while I waited on you two! What else? You ever flown this baby?” Leon could feel the grin splitting his face. 

“Once or twice,” Jet said. “Now focus, kid. We’re on a mission here. You can try out your trick flying later.”

“Yeah, and how about slowing down and letting us catch up,” Faye said. “We still don’t know what we’re flying into here.” 

Leon frowned, but he slowed the  _ Swordfish.  _ “C’mon, Faye, are you scared?”

“Scared? Of course not. Don’t forget, I’ve been riding this horse way longer than you cow _ boy _ .” 

“I’m not a kid, you know.” Leon felt his defenses go up.

“Enough,” Jet said. “You’re both tense. Now concentrate.” 

They flew in silence for a while. Leon admired the sands by night, his headlights picking up the glitter and flash of the sand and turning it into a mirror of the starry sky above. He’d never thought of Venus as a pretty planet, but right now, it wasn’t half bad. The island came into view about forty minutes later. The radio crackled to life again. “We’re at the point of no return,” Jet said. “After this, anybody on the island can see us. We’ll set down on the east side as planned unless we run into fire. Remember, this isn’t a life or death thing. If you get shot at, run.” 

“Roger,” Leon and Faye both responded. 

The three ships flew low over the desert until they reached the island. It was a small piece of land floating on artificial gravity in the sky. Most of it was covered in trees and other vegetation, but there were a few buildings on the west side of the island. They looked like they were abandoned and mostly reclaimed by the trees. A clearing on the east side of the island offered a good landing area for the ships, and would keep them obscured from anyone in the buildings. 

Leon slid the  _ Swordfish  _ under the island, then nosed her into a graceful climb on the other side. He tensed as her nose cleared land, almost expecting gunfire to sweep the fuselage. But he was met only with darkness and silence. The clearing came into view and he took a lazy dive toward it, slowing and pulling the  _ Swordfish  _ into a perfect landing. He shut the engines as the  _ Hammerhead  _ and  _ Redtail  _ landed on either side of him.

“Show off,” Faye grumbled. 

“You know you love it though,” he teased. 

“Don’t try me, kid,” she said. 

“Touchy,” he mumbled, but he made sure he cut his radio before he said it. He grabbed his pistol and popped the cockpit on the  _ Swordfish. _ Everything on the island was quiet. From here he could only catch a few glimpses of the buildings through the trees, and he only saw those because he knew the buildings were already there. Why would the man at the pharmacy give him the coordinates for a terraform island? Nobody lived on these things anyway and this one was too far out in the desert to be anything practical. He stepped out of the  _ Swordfish  _ and jumped to the ground as Jet emerged from the  _ Hammerhead.  _ The older cowboy looked grim and held his gun at the ready.

Faye watched the two from her spot in the cockpit of the  _ Redtail _ , where she would keep watch for trouble and bail the two of them out if they ran into something bigger than they could handle. 

Leon took a deep breath. He felt his stomach twist with the typical adrenaline rush he got when he was about to catch a bountyhead. He looked over at Jet. Jet gave him a nod and the two silently walked into the surrounding trees, shoulder to shoulder.  


	10. Session Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One note on names - you're about to meet Draugh, whose name is pronounced like Drow with a nice "ah" sound before the o. "Drah-ow" ;)

The island was quiet. If Leon were being cliche, his next thought would be “too quiet.” Something between a grin and a grimace tugged at the corner of his mouth. He readjusted the grip on his pistol and fell a step or two behind Jet, keeping an eye on their surroundings. Apart from some rustling in the underbrush that turned out to be a couple of birds, there was no sign of any life on the island. Although, apart from humans, Leon figured birds were the only creatures that could get to a terraform island on their own. Already he had a million and one questions about the island.

It took about ten minutes of walking through dense undergrowth to reach the buildings. Jet and Leon stopped at the edge of the treeline to scope them out. There was a cluster of three or four buildings in the center of what was once a large clearing. But instead of the usual atmosphere converters found on the terraform islands, these buildings looked ancient. They were made mostly of white stone, with some mosaic work along their edges. They were dome shaped, with tall front porches and columns. The biggest building sat off the ground and had a sprawling staircase leading up to its front porch. The other buildings were smaller with only three or four steps to their porches. 

“They look like temples,” Leon whispered. 

“Yeah, but temples to what?” Jet wondered.

Leon shrugged. “Does Venus worship any ancient gods?”

It was Jet’s turn to shrug. “Who knows, but it’s perfect for keeping illegal drugs. Not likely anybody would stumble up here by accident.”

Leon nodded. “So, big one first?” 

“Might as well,” Jet agreed. 

Leon stepped out of the tree line, keeping low. There was only about ten feet between the temples and the tree line, but that was ten feet without cover. However, just like landing on the island, they met with no resistance. He and Jet climbed the stairs, darting behind the columns on the porch like shadows. Still, no challenge. Nothing moved. Jet motioned at the double front doors. Leon nodded. Jet slunk up and sidled along the wall until he could shove one of the doors open with his foot. The door swung open with the soft scuff of loose debris and the whine of ancient hinges. No gunfire. Jet peered around the corner. Leon covered him from the pillar. 

After a few tense moments, Jet motioned to Leon and Leon joined him at the door. The two walked inside. The inside of the temple was breathtaking. Open porticos beneath what had been a domed ceiling allowed starlight to filter into the temple. Pillars lined the walls on the inside of the building, reminding Leon of ancient Greek architecture. Statues stood between the pillars, massive warriors over twenty feet tall holding upthrust spears. At one time, the warriors supported the ceiling, but now many of them were cracked and broken, missing spears and arms, and most of the ceiling had collapsed. One of the warrior’s heads had fallen off at some point and lay half-shattered in the middle of the floor.

“This place is amazing,” Leon murmured, walking towards the warrior’s head. The only sound in the derelict temple was the crunch of debris under his boots.

Jet nodded in agreement, but there was a tight tilt to his shoulders. “I don’t like it.”

“Aw, c’mon, Jet. There’s nothing to worry about. I think we got the coordinates wrong. There’s nobody here but a bunch of dusty statues.”

“I don’t trust them,” Jet said, glaring at the statues like they might come to life.

“What, the statues?” Leon kicked at the warrior’s head with his toe and winced when he knocked the nose off. It clattered to the floor, the sound echoing off the walls. 

Jet glowered at him. Leon raised his hands in surrender.

“We’re here for observation, not demolition,” Jet scowled. 

“Right.” Leon put his heels together and gave Jet a salute. “Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again, sir.” 

Jet chuckled despite himself. “Well, since we’re here, I guess we oughta look around. Stay within sight, ok?” 

“Yes, sir.”

Leon slid his pistol into his belt and bent down to examine the warrior’s head more closely. He heard footsteps off to his left as Jet explored. 

The statue was massive, its head bigger than Leon’s body. Leon ran his finger along the warrior’s face, tracing the outline of his wide-open eyes. He pulled his finger back in surprise. The eyes were gemstones! Crazy that they hadn’t shattered when the head fell. 

_ Clink. Thwump. _

Leon stiffened. He paused and held his breath, listening. Silence. He looked over his shoulder for Jet, but couldn’t see him anywhere. Leon cursed under his breath. “Whatever happened to stay in sight, old man?” He crouched lower beside the warrior’s head and drew his pistol. 

He whirled to his left when he heard the scuff of a footstep against the floor. 

“Jet?” he called softly. No answer.

“Jet, that’s not funny, dammit,” he said, but he was whispering now, a cold finger of dread slipping its way down his spine.

He was in clear view of anyone else who might be in the temple, crouched in the brightest part of the room and outlined by the pale warrior’s head behind him. He backed toward the edge of the room slowly, near crawling on his hands and knees. He stood up only when he was in the shadows and peered into the dark corners of the temple. 

_ Ca-chink. _

Leon started. That was a distinctly metal sound. A distinctly gun sound. If it was Jet, he wasn’t speaking to Leon, which meant he’d found something hostile in the temple. If it wasn’t Jet, then there was something hostile in the temple. Leon worked his way around the room toward the front doors. He felt his skin crawl as cold sweat traced its way under his collar. 

If he could get to the doors, he had a chance of slipping into the woods and calling Faye for back up. He didn’t have his own radio. He and Jet only brought one and Jet was carrying it, so his only hope was to run back to the ships. He felt his back hit the wall and he started to edge his way toward the doors when they suddenly slammed shut. Leon jumped and bit his tongue, tasting blood. He spat. 

“Leaving so soon?” A man’s voice asked. It came from the middle of the temple. For lack of a better position, Leon put his back to the doors and faced the temple. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place a finger on it.

“Where’s Jet?” Leon demanded. 

“Who?” the man sounded genuinely puzzled. 

Perhaps Jet had sensed something before Leon and was lying low somewhere in the temple. Or the man was lying.

“Nevermind,” Leon muttered. “Who are you?” 

“You don’t recognize me?” the voice sounded hurt. 

“Should I?” Leon asked. 

He heard the scuff of footsteps again and a man stepped from the shadows and stopped by the warrior’s head. It was the gray-haired man from the pier. Leon was pleased to note that his nose was not as straight as before. He wore a tailored suit beneath a long black overcoat trimmed in gold. His hands were in his pockets. “You ought to,” he said, smiling. “I tried to teach you how to throw a punch.” 

Leon scowled. “You tried to kill me,” he accused. He was proud of the fact that his gun didn’t waver.

The man shook his head. “A simple misunderstanding. Forgive me,” he sketched a bow. “I was merely attempting to detain you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Leon growled.

“Perhaps.” The man shrugged. “But come now, let’s be civil. Put the gun down, boy. I’m only here to offer you a proposition.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Leon took a few steps forward so that his pistol stood out starkly in the starlight, but his body was still in shadow. 

“Suit yourself,” the man sat down on the warrior’s head. Leon fingered the trigger when he pulled his hands out of his pockets, but all he was holding was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He grinned at Leon and pulled a cigarette from the pack. He tilted the pack toward Leon, offering him one, but Leon shook his head. The man shrugged and put the cigarette in his mouth. He cupped his hands around it as he lit it, then slipped the pack and lighter back in his pockets. Smoke curled lazily out of his mouth as he breathed.

“Now,” he spoke as if the two were discussing nothing more than a game of shogi. “I’d prefer to have this conversation without staring down the barrel of a gun. Perhaps you’d like to behave like a civilized man and put it down?”

“Like hell I would. I don’t trust you.” 

The man sighed and raised his eyes. “You young cowboys are all skittish. So dramatic...just like your father.”

Leon paused. His gun dropped a little. “You knew my father?”

“Of course I did,” the man smiled as if at some fond memory. “Or did your newfound crew forget to tell you he was Syndicate?”

“They told me.”

“Well, I doubt they mentioned me, but I was once good friends with your father. I mentored him in the Syndicate. The name’s Draugh.”

“I take it you already know my name, so I guess we’re acquainted,” Leon said.

“I know you’re a Spiegel.” 

“We’ll leave it at that.”

“Not a friendly type, are you?” Draugh knocked his loose ashes on the warrior’s head.

“Not with men who try to kill me, no.”

“Have it your way, then.”

“So was it your man at the pharmacy that sent me here?” Leon decided to switch tactics. They came here to find information so he might as well try to find some.

Draugh grinned. “You could say that. By the way, I want to congratulate you on your little scheme at The Lion’s Den.”

“How do you know about that?”

“My dear boy, who do you think is orchestrating the sales of this Dragon’s Eye?”

“The Syndicate!” Leon would have smacked himself in the forehead if he wasn’t holding a pistol. 

“Naturally. That little tagline you gave Andross about rebuilding a Syndicate was more accurate than you realized.”

_ No wonder Andross had such nice stuff, _ Leon thought.  _ He’s not being supplied by some random vigilante. And we walked right into it!  _

“What about Villanova then?” Leon asked. 

“What about her?”

“Is she a real bounty?”

“Of course she is. How else do you think we lured you cowboys?”

Leon ignored the remark. “Is she the Gray Ash supplier?”

“Right again.”

“Let me guess, she’s Syndicate too.”

“Three for three, boy.”

Leon cringed at being called boy. Just then, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A man, moving in the shadows behind Draugh. It was Jet! Leon quickly focused on Draugh again. Draugh seemed to believe Jet wasn’t here. Or at least, wasn’t going to interfere. If Leon could keep him talking long enough, then Jet could get the drop on him.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Leon asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s only two reasons the bad guy reveals his master plan,” Leon said, lowering his gun so he could hold up two fingers. “One,” he put down one finger. “Because you’re going to kill me. Or two, because you want me to join you. And if that’s the case, there’s my answer.” Leon made sure Draugh could see his solitary finger.

Jet crept closer.

Draugh laughed. “Cheeky, aren’t you? I’m not here to kill you. However, I will admit, I am hoping to recruit you.”

“Why would I want to join you?” Leon asked.

“Well, we make infinitely more money than a cowboy, for one.”

“Yeah, on other people’s misfortune.”

“You’re no different. You think your bountyheads enjoy getting bagged?”

“They deserve it,” Leon snorted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jet pause.

“As do the people we exploit. The world’s made up of people clambering to the top of the ladder, boy, and the only way to make it to the top is to stand on the shoulders of the other poor souls.”

“You’re wrong, Draugh. You and your Syndicate. My father wiped you guys out for a reason. Why would you want me to join you anyway? Shouldn’t you hate me?”

“Hate is a thing of the past,” Draugh waved his hand in the air dismissively, trailing cigarette smoke. “Your father was one of the Syndicate’s best assets. In fact, before he betrayed  us, he was on a one-way track to lead the Dragon. We believe you show the same talent and discipline. And we’re willing to let bygones be bygones and welcome you back into the fold. Think about it. You stand on your father’s reputation already. Prove your loyalty to the Syndicate, and you’ll be on the fast track to leadership. You could hold the galaxy in the palm of your hand.”

“So, I’d make a lot of money?” Leon asked. From over Draugh’s shoulder, Jet gave Leon a puzzled look. 

“Naturally,” Draugh smiled. 

“And I’d get to run the Dragon my way?”

“Well, after you become its head, yes.”

“And you’ll apologize for everything that happened on the pier, right?”

“Of course. What happened at the pier was a mistake.”

“It was,” Leon agreed. “But what happened the night my father wiped you guys out wasn’t.” He narrowed his eyes. “It was done before, it can be done again.”

“You don’t even know your father,” Draugh’s smile turned sour.

“I know enough to know that the Syndicate shouldn’t exist!”

Jet was only a few feet behind Draugh now, crouched behind a pile of debris. Leon gave him a subtle nod.

“You don’t know anything about the Syndicate, boy!” Draugh stood up, clearly agitated. 

“Maybe not,” Leon conceded. “But I know you’re not as smart as you think you are.” 

Jet lunged. 

Draugh heard his footfalls on the floor and turned a moment before Jet barreled into him, ramming him full in the chest with his metal shoulder. Draugh shouted and went down with Jet on top, the two men wrestling across the floor. Before Leon could react, he heard movement behind him and whirled to see the doors opening. He threw himself to the side as two men charged through the double doors. Both wore black and gold jackets. They took only a moment to assess the situation before pulling out guns of their own. 

Leon didn’t hesitate. He shot the man closest to him. He went down with a surprised grunt and his partner turned to face Leon. Leon was surprised to find that he wasn’t any older than himself. He was not surprised when the youth returned fire. Leon dove behind the closest pillar as bullets hit the wall. He leaned out and shot back, but the youth had already hidden himself and his bullets hit nothing but stone. Leon ducked back and got an eye on Jet and Draugh. Jet was still on top, and neither man currently had a gun. Leon had no doubt that Jet could hold his own in a fist fight, but he didn’t want the other Syndicate member to get involved. 

_ I’m an idiot,  _ he thought to himself. He jumped out from behind the pillar and ran across the floor toward Jet.

As he did, he caught movement behind another pillar across the room and saw the youth take aim. 

“Jet! Look out!” he yelled, aiming his own pistol.

Leon pulled the trigger. 

He saw the youth’s mouth open in a perfect “O” of surprise as blood sprouted from his chest. And then Leon stumbled to a halt as something ripped into his right shoulder, half-slinging him around and dropping him to one knee. He dropped his gun as blood slithered down his arm. Pain knifed into his chest, solid and hot.

“Leon!” Jet shouted.

“I’m ok!” Leon swallowed the pain and jerked to his feet, clutching his shoulder. Jet had Draugh pinned to the warrior’s head with his mechanical arm against Draugh’s thoat. Leon saw a gun resting on the floor a few feet away. It wasn’t Jet’s Walther, so it must’ve been Draugh’s. Draugh was gasping for breath, but Jet was focused on Leon. Draugh slowly slipped one hand into his coat and Leon remembered the knife. 

“Jet, look out for the---”

Draugh pulled the blade from his pocket and sunk it deep into the joint of Jet’s metal arm. Jet roared in frustration as the arm hissed and fell limp by his side. 

“...knife,” Leon finished weakly. 

Using the warrior's head as leverage, Draugh leaned back and kicked Jet, catching him in the chest. Jet fell back with a grunt. Draugh looked up and locked eyes with Leon. They both had the same thought--go for the gun. Leon ran toward Draugh’s gun at the same time Draugh threw his knife and buried it in Leon’s already injured shoulder. 

Leon screamed and staggered, sinking to his knees again. This time, he couldn’t stop the tears. He grit his teeth against the lance of pain throbbing with every heartbeat. He put his hand to the hilt of the knife, but he knew better than to pull it out. 

Draugh laughed as he reached his gun and snatched it up. “You should have accepted my offer, cowboy. It would have gone easier on you.”

Leon took a ragged breath. “I...don’t want...to join...your stupid Syndicate,” he panted.

Draugh shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you?” he swung around and pointed his gun at Jet, who had just recovered his feet. 

“Don’t...do it...Draugh,” Leon hissed. 

“And who’s going to stop me?”

Just then what remained of the ceiling crashed down with a tremendous rumble as Faye’s  _ Redtail  _ sped into the temple. Jet, Leon, and Draugh all scrambled towards the nearest cover. Faye opened fire, shattering the warrior’s head. Draugh shouted and covered his face as pieces of stone raked him. 

Leon threw himself behind a pillar once again. His breath came in haphazard gasps, sweat dripping down his face. His limbs refused to work and he collapsed against the pillar, sliding into a heap on the floor. Dust and stone rained down around him to the steady  _ rat-tat-tat-tat  _ of the  _ Redtail’ _ s guns. He tried to get a deep breath, but between the debris and the pain interrupting his every thought, he came up short. In the dust and gunfire, a figure appeared and grabbed him by his uninjured shoulder. “C’mon, kid, or Faye’s going to blow us all to hell and back.” 

Leon sagged in relief. It was Jet. Jet hauled him to his feet.

Jet half-dragged, half-carried him out of the temple and down the steps into the woods.


	11. Session Eleven

Something dragged him back to reality. Something cold and wet lapping at his left hand. Leon opened his eyes to find the  _Bebop_ 's now familiar ceiling fan making its regular rotations over his head. He was lying on the couch in the living room, a blanket draped over him. His shoulder throbbed off-key with his pulse. Someone had removed his shirt and wrapped his chest and shoulder in bandages. His right arm was held close to his body in a sling. His left arm dangled off the edge of the couch.

He felt another cold lick on his hand and looked over. "Hey, Ein," he said softly, reaching out and scratching the corgi between the ears. Ein barked and licked his fingers, tongue lolling. Leon petted him for a few seconds. Ein barked again and ducked out of Leon's fingers. With a doggie grin, he ran off.

"Hey, where are you going?" Leon protested weakly, but the little dog was already gone.

Leon looked back up at the ceiling and moved his right arm experimentally. He winced as the pain intensified. "Ok...moving...hurts," he mumbled to himself.

The  _Bebop_ was oddly quiet.  _Where was everybody?_

He wished he had a cigarette, but it would take too much effort to light one.

Just then Ein came running back into the living room barking happily. He ran over to Leon's hand and licked it again. "You're back are you?" he asked.

"You're awake!" he heard Ed exclaim softly. He looked up to find her perched cross-legged on the back of the couch.

"Yeah. How long was I asleep?"

Ed scratched her head. "Nine, ten hours?" she shrugged. "It's almost night time again."

Ein whined and jumped up on the couch, landing on Leon's stomach. "Aaahhh," he sucked in a breath as Ein jostled him.

"Careful, Ein!" Ed yelped. She reached out as if to take the dog.

"Nah... it's ok," Leon said. "Long as he's still."

Ein immediately lay down, as if he understood. He lay his nose on his paws and stared at Leon thoughtfully. Something about the warm little furball was comforting.

"Are Faye and Jet ok?" Leon looked back up at Ed.

"They're fine," Ed smiled. "Faye Faye is pouting and Jet is playing with screwdrivers. How about Leo?" she asked.

"I'm alive," he said.

"Jet pulled lots of blood and metal out of your shoulder," Ed shuddered like she was remembering something unpleasant. She was unusually subdued.

"Glad I wasn't awake for that," Leon grimaced.

"Ed too," she said. She didn't meet his eye.

"So, Jet's an amateur surgeon, huh?" Leon asked.

"With Spike person around, he learned fast," Ed said. "Spike always came back full of holes. No doctors in the Astral Gates," she shrugged.

"Lucky for me, then," Leon said.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly.

"Are we still on Venus?"

She nodded. "Jet says we're in a secret place." She didn't say anything for a few moments.

"Is everything ok, Ed?" Leon asked. "You're pretty quiet."

"A-OK!" she grinned, but Leon thought it looked forced.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yup!" she nodded and slid off the couch. "Ed's gotta go. Tomato and Ed are doing research. And Leo needs sleep."

With a wave, she disappeared.

Leon looked down at Ein and rested his left hand on the corgi's back. "I bet you know what's wrong, don't you?" he murmured.

Ein whined softly, as if to say,  _I wish._

"Yeah, me too, boy," Leon sighed. "Me too."

* * *

When he woke up again, Jet was sitting in the chair across the coffee table, smoking and reading a book. Leon was surprised to find Ein curled up on the couch at his feet.

"Hey, glad to see you awake," Jet closed his book and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Glad to see you still have your arm," Leon said.

"This old thing?" Jet shifted his mechanical arm. "She's fine. He didn't hit anything major."

Leon winced. "Sorry about that."

"Eh, that's no big deal. I can mend this a lot faster than flesh and bone. You got the worse end of the deal. How do you feel?"

"I'm alright. Long as I don't move this arm too much." Leon pushed himself up on his left arm and swung his feet over the edge of the couch so he could sit up. His felt a little light-headed, but it went away soon enough. Jet gave him a concerned look. Ein shifted so he was sitting right next to Leon.

"You know, he hasn't left you since we brought you back to the ship." Jet pointed at Ein.

Ein looked up with his melted chocolate eyes.

"That's weird. He's usually with Ed."

"I think he was worried about you."

Leon looked down at Ein, then back at Jet. "I know I took a hit, Jet, but I'm not dying or anything. Why is everybody acting like I might fall apart?"

"You almost did fall apart on us, kid," Jet said somberly. "I pulled a knife and a bullet out of your shoulder and you lost quite a bit of blood. Ed had to sew you back up. Sorry, but it's not going to heal pretty."

"Wait a minute, did you just say  _Ed_  sewed me up?"

Jet nodded. "I had only one hand and you don't want Faye sewing anything, trust me. Ed was the only one left for the job. I've never seen her concentrate on anything harder in her life."

"That must've been why she was so quiet earlier."

"Probably. She was scared to death she was going to kill you. I told her she couldn't make anything much worse than it was, so she might as well give it a go."

Leon grimaced. "How bad was it?"

"Well, beyond the obvious muscle damage, I think the knife may have fractured your collarbone, so you're gonna be out of commission for a few weeks."

"A few weeks!" Leon groaned.

"It could be worse. Spike used to bounce back from this stuff pretty fast, so if you've got any of his resilience in your blood, you'll heal quick."

"I guess I got that going for me. What about the bounty?"

Jet shrugged. "We'll discuss that later."

Leon felt like Jet might be leaving something out, but he decided to let it go for now. He hadn't seen Faye since they got back from the island and, from the way Ed and Jet were acting, she was brooding on something. Leon got the distinct feeling it was him.

A sudden thought struck him and he sat up straighter. "The  _Swordfish_!" he exclaimed. "How'd we get her back here? We did get her back, didn't we?"

Jet grinned. "Oh, she's fine. The  _Hammerhead_ 's got a tow cable so we put you in the  _Hammerhead's_ cargo space and I towed the  _Swordfish_ back."

"You shoved me in the cargo space?"

"Well, there wasn't much shoving involved, not with Faye screaming at me not to kill you so she could do you in herself when we got back."

"She's that mad, huh?"

"Faye only screams at the people she really cares about."

"I only scream at who now?"

Leon tilted his head back to find Faye standing directly over him, arms crossed. She was wearing her bathrobe and carrying a paperback. Her wet hair was up in a towel. Something about the serious slant of her mouth made Leon nervous. Faye put her hands on her hips.

"I thought you were taking a bath, Faye," Jet said.

"Well, I _was_ , until Ed told me our resident invalid was awake."

Leon swallowed. "Hey, Faye."

"Hey? That's all you have to say for yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you almost go and get yourself killed and all you have to say for yourself is 'hey'?" She whacked Leon upside the head with her book.

"Faye!" Jet yelled.

"Ow!" Leon yelped and put his left arm up to cover his head. His vision swam. He blinked a few times and it cleared. "Wait just a...damn minute! You were the one playing backup! Why didn't you save us faster?"

"Save you faster!" Faye looked indignant. "Save you faster? If Jet called me on his radio like he said he would, maybe I could have!"

Jet held out his hands. "Like I told you before, Faye, someone hit me on the head and took my radio and my gun."

"So that's why you didn't answer me," Leon said.

Jet nodded.

"Oh, yeah? How come you came back with the gun and not the radio then?" Faye demanded.

Jet sighed. "I found the gun on the way out of the temple. I guess someone just tossed it out of the way. But I don't know what happened to the radio."

"So, you mean, you didn't time that rescue?" Leon shifted so that he could look up at Faye without tilting his head so far back.

"Not anymore than you planned that busted collarbone."

Leon paled. "Th-thanks, Faye." If Faye hadn't come in when she did...Jet wouldn't be sitting here across from him. And he wouldn't be here either. "You really saved our lives back there." Leon looked at Faye with new respect.

Faye sighed. Leon could almost see her defenses go down with the drop of her shoulders. She folded the paperback and walked around the couch to sit in the chair beside Jet. "You're just glad I decided to check in on your radio silence. That was too close of a call."

They were all silent for a long moment.

Faye broke the silence. "So. Jet told me an abbreviated version of what happened in the temple. What actually went down in there?"

Leon looked over at Jet and Jet gave him a nod, like he was giving him the go ahead to tell the story. Leon sighed. "Well, you remember that grey-haired guy who chased me down on the pier the day you met me?"

"Yeah." Faye nodded.

"Turns out his name's Draugh. He followed us here. Andross was a minion of his and Villanova's apparently an associate."

"I thought you said this would get us away from the Syndicate, Jet!" Faye accused.

"I thought it would," he shrugged.

"So you guys just met in the temple and shot each other?" Faye asked.

"At first we didn't even know he was there," Jet said. "We split up to look around and someone came up behind me and knocked me out. When I came to, Leon was talking to Draugh in the middle of the room."

"You were talking to him?!"

"I was stalling him."

"What did he say?"

"He told me he mentored Spike in the Syndicate."

Jet and Faye traded glances. Jet shrugged. "It's possible, I suppose. He's old enough to have been around when Spike was. Spike never talked much about his time in the Syndicate, so there's no way to know for sure."

"Did he say anything else?" Faye asked, an almost feverish gleam in her eye.

"He told me the pier was a mistake, and the Dragon doesn't want to kill me," Leon continued. "Instead, they want me to join the Syndicate. He told me if I joined, I could pick up where Spike left off and become the head of the new Dragon."

"Spike was never the head of the Dragon!" Faye said.

Leon shrugged and instantly regretted the motion. He groaned as he felt something slide in his shoulder.

"Hey, you ok, kid?" Jet asked.

Leon shut his eyes and nodded, the motion small and contained. "Yeah," he breathed. After a moment the pain faded to a bearable ache again. He opened his eyes to see Jet and Faye both watching him closely. Ein whined softly. He tried to give them a smile, but it failed.

Jet stood up. "You look rough, Leon. I'll make you some tea that will help with that shoulder. We can finish this discussion later."

Faye didn't look happy with that decision, but she didn't argue this time. With a last look at Leon, she gathered her book and headed back to the lower deck of the ship.

A few minutes later, Jet returned with a steaming mug. He handed it to Leon and Leon drank it without complaining. Shortly after, he felt his eyelids drift shut of their own accord and he lay down and slipped into merciful sleep.


	12. Session Twelve

"Look, we can't just let Villanova go!" Leon protested. It was a week after the Temple incident. After taking a page from the Dragon's book and hiding on a terraform island to give Leon a few days of recovery, the crew of the  _Bebop_ was discussing their next move.

"Oh yeah? We sure as hell can, kid," Faye retorted. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the couch after delegating Leon to one of the chairs. "And I think we need to. This bounty is way over your head and we don't need to get involved. We chased Villanova to get away from the Syndicate and now we find out she's neck deep in the Red Dragon. We need to let this one go."

"No! That's exactly why we still need to chase her." Leon gestured with his left hand. His right arm was still bound tightly in a sling, but at least he'd learned what movements he could and couldn't make. "We can't let the Syndicate keep growing like this!"

"Are you an idiot?" Faye demanded. "That's what they want us to do! This whole thing has been an elaborate set-up to bag you. You of all people should stay out of this."

"She does have a point," Jet said. "The Dragon is going after you. Are you sure you want to keep hunting this bounty?"

"That makes me want to hunt Villanova even more! I can't live the rest of my life hiding from the Dragon. If they want me, they won't let me go easily. You said this yourselves when you brought me on board."

"Leo's right," Ed chimed in from the staircase leading to the bridge. She was dangling her feet off the third step up with Tomato in her lap as usual. "Fangs come out," she held her fingers next to her mouth like big teeth. "They don't go back in." She made a growling sound and acted like she was biting something.

From the step above her, Ein gave a confused growl. "Nasty, nasty fangs, aren't they Ein?" She growled back at the corgi. He stood up and barked at her. "See? Even Ein thinks we should fight."

"Fighting is what we should avoid!" Faye insisted. "Spike went to fight the Dragon and look where that got him!"

"Yeah, but I'm not planning to fight the Dragon all by myself," Leon said.

"You will if we aren't going with you."

"Hey, no one said anything about sending Leon in alone," Jet interrupted. "If you decide to pursue this bounty, you can count me in."

"Ed too!" Ed held one hand over her heart and the other in the air with two fingers raised.

"Since when does Leon make decisions for the entire crew?" Faye asked.

"Since this bounty affects his life more than ours," Jet said.

"It'll affect my life plenty if someone gets killed on this mission!"

"No one's going to get killed, Faye," Leon said.

Faye bit her lip. "You don't know that. You don't know that! You  _know_  what happened to Spike." She looked like she was holding back tears. "We can't guarantee that none of us will die."

"We can't guarantee that on any mission, Faye," Jet pointed out gently. "Why are you so afraid of this one?"

"Because it's the Dragon," she said quietly. "Are none of you listening to me? Have you forgotten Spike?"

Ed shook her head vigorously. "Nobody forgets Spike person, Faye Faye. But we can't let the Dragon scare us. Even though they have fangs, we've got claws. Plus, we're the  _Bebop Bebop_. They can't stop us if we work together."

"Besides, Spike's already laid the groundwork for us," Leon said. "We don't have to go in and destroy the whole thing. I think if we take out the head, the rest will fall. That means Villanova and Andross from what I figure. We already know where to find Andross, and I'm guessing we'll get Villanova in Tharsis since we've compromised her Venus hideout."

"You're forgetting Draugh," Faye pointed out.

"I thought you shot him," Jet said.

"I might have." Faye tucked a stray piece of hair back into her headband.

"What do you mean, 'might have?'" Jet leaned forward.

"Well, I wasn't exactly aiming for anything back at the temple. I was mainly creating a distraction. I can't confirm that he's dead or anything."

"You don't even know what you hit?" Leon asked, incredulous.

"I was a bit preoccupied saving your asses, if you remember," Faye pointed out.

"What if you'd shot our asses instead?"

"But I didn't," she scowled.

"Ok, ok," Leon held up his hand in surrender. "So we assume he's alive, just to be safe. So there you have it. Three targets and bam! Dragon's over."

"Have you ever heard of the hydra?" Faye asked dryly.

"Sure, why?"

"You know how when you cut off one head, another two grow back?"

"Yeah."

"That's what we're going to fight. Not a Dragon. A hydra. And if we cut off the head, two more will just grow back. The Syndicate will keep cropping up no matter how many times we fight it. That's just how the world works. There've always been Syndicates, and there always will be. It's not up to us to try and stop that cycle."

"No one's saying we're going after all the Syndicates in the Galaxy. Just the Red Dragon, Faye," Leon said.

"You don't understand." When she looked up at Leon, there were tears in the corners of her eyes. "In a little over a month, it will be fifteen years to the day since I lost your father to the Dragon. I don't want to watch you walk out too. I don't want that death on my hands."

"Faye," Jet said. "Leon's not going to die. This isn't a suicide mission. No one here needs to kill the Dragon like Spike did. None of us are doing this for revenge. There is no Vicious this time. We're just going after a couple of bounties. Like always. You don't have to make a decision right now. But if you decide to sit this one out, no one will blame you."

"I don't want to sit it out, Jet. I want it to never happen at all." Faye got up from the couch and walked out of the living room without another word.

Leon sat back in his chair with a sigh. "Sorry, Jet, Ed," he said.

"What for?" Ed asked, peering at him curiously between the stair rails.

"For breaking up the  _Bebop,_ " Leon said. He pushed himself out of the chair and walked out of the room.

* * *

The bridge was quiet and dark, just the soft glow of the sleeping dash lights interrupting the dim light. Leon walked up to the shogi board and stared down at the pieces. Jet still hadn't moved anything. He was winning. Leon picked up a pawn and flicked it across the board, scattering pieces. "That's me," he muttered. "Just a pawn trying to play shogi by scattering his own army."

He put his left hand on the shogi board and curled the fingers into a fist, leaning over the board, head bowed. He'd only been on the  _Bebop_ for a few weeks and already he was breaking up the crew. Why was it so hard to belong somewhere? Not with his parents, not in an orphanage, not on the  _Bebop._ Maybe it was his lot in life to be a rift wherever he went.

He raised his head and wandered over to the windows. Leon could just make out the sky above the tops of the trees surrounding the  _Bebop_. Pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, he stuck it between his teeth and flicked his lighter to light it. He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar smoke swirl in his chest. He breathed out slowly, letting the smoke hang in the air over his head.

He rested his left forearm against the window and put his forehead against it. "Why me? All I wanted to do was be a Cowboy. Was that too much to ask?"

He got no answer. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing.

Sometime later he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him. He lifted his head and turned to see Faye walk onto the bridge. She frowned when she saw him. "Seems like someone stole my quiet spot," she said, but she came to stand by the window with him. He didn't say anything, just cut her a glance out of the corner of his eye and kept smoking.

"How's the shoulder?" she finally asked. She didn't pick up where their last conversation left off, so Leon didn't either.

He pulled his cigarette out of his mouth. "Fine. Still hurts if I move too fast, but it's healing."

"Just like Spike," she murmured. Leon wasn't sure if she meant him to hear that.

"So I've heard." Leon sighed. He looked at his reflection in the glass. Since he'd messed up his collarbone, he'd taken to wearing button up shirts - they were easier to get into. He was in a pale yellow shirt now, one of Spike's old ones. When he gazed into the brown eyes in the window, it was almost Spike that gazed back. "I don't want to trample on Spike's memory or anything," he said quietly, "but it'd be nice If I could just be Leon every once in a while."

"What do you mean?" Faye was staring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You know, not be compared to Spike all the time. I know I look like him. But it's hard being put up against him every time I turn around."

Faye narrowed her eyes. "Don't you want to be like your father?"

"I mean, I guess so, but I never knew him. It's kind of hard to want to be like someone you never met."

"You don't trust me and Jet?"

"Of course I do. Why?"

"You don't trust that our stories of Spike are true?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then I don't see the problem." She sounded defensive.

"I can't un-be me, Faye. And I can't be Spike. I need you to see that."

Faye turned and looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

Leon sighed. "Ok, be honest with me for a minute, Faye."

"When am I ever not?" she asked, giving him her wide-eyed "innocent" stare.

Leon decided not to answer that one, but instead went straight for the point. "You're not the same woman who found me on the pier. What's biting you?"

"Nothing. I'm the same as I always am," she answered quickly.

"Faye, I've known you less than a month and I can tell you aren't acting normal."

She stared out the window again so he couldn't see her face.

Leon sighed. "It's because I'm so much like him, isn't it?"

"No."

"It is!" Leon insisted. "You don't like seeing a reminder of what you lost walking around right in front of you, do you? You loved him, didn't you?"

"Dammit, kid, I do not want to bring this up right now."

"I think we need to, Faye."

"I don't want to bring up the past."

"We need to if I'm going to bring it up just by breathing the same air you do. We can't walk around the  _Bebop_ blindfolded so we don't ever see each other. You and I need to sort this out before we go farther."

"Kid, you aren't making any sense."

Leon stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and took a long drag to give himself a minute. He let out the smoke in a huff. "Alright, I'll be blunt. You hate me because I'm a walking reminder of him."

"You don't get it, do you?" Faye narrowed her eyes.

"Huh?"

"I don't hate you because you remind me of Spike," she whirled on him. "I hate you because you aren't him!" she yelled.

Leon stepped back as if she'd physically hit him.

"Does that make you happy, Leon?" she continued. "Can we move on now?"

Leon didn't know what to say.

"Precisely," Faye said. "You don't know how to fix this anymore than I do. So let it go." She turned stiffly and walked away, her heels echoing hollowly on the metal floor.

"Faye?" He found his voice just before her head disappeared below the stairs.

She didn't say anything but Leon heard her footsteps stop.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The footsteps continued down the stairs.

Leon hung his head and put his back to the window. He slid to the floor. He was a fool.


	13. Session Thirteen

Jet and Ed were in Jet's room. He was clipping bonsai while Ed was standing on her head.

"Ed needs passcodes," Ed announced.

"Passcodes, huh?" Jet mused.

"Yup! Ed can sneak in the back door without them, but with them, Ed could stroll in the front with a breeze."

"I think I can get some codes for you," Jet said.

"This'll make nabbing those baddies easy!" Ed cheered. "And it makes  _Bebop Bebop_ rich!"

"I think you're forgetting that we're adding these bounties to the list, Ed," Jet said. "We can't pay ourselves."

She sighed and let her feet drop to the floor, so that she balanced on her hands and feet, belly-up. "You're right.  _Bebop_ never gets rich."

Jet laughed. "Can't argue with you there. But let's not count our chickens before they hatch."

"Ed doesn't have chickens," Ed tilted her head, looking at Jet upside down. "So she can count Ein and he's one so we win!"

"I wish it was that easy, Ed."

"Jet thinks they'll slip through the net?"

Jet shrugged. "It's possible. You know how these things usually go."

Ed nodded seriously. "Kablooie," she said.

"Exactly," Jet nodded. "And with Faye out of sorts, we'll be working one man down on this one."

"Two men down," Ed said, flipping over onto her knees.

"Two?"

"Collarbone, funnybone, shinbone, no bone," she said, drawing a line across her own collarbone with her finger. "Leo's not at his best."

"That we can work around," Jet said, "but it will make things more difficult. We'll probably have to wait until he can at least fly a ship again."

"Ed can fly," Ed looked over at Jet, eyes wide, her statement almost a question.

Jet glared at Ed over the top of the bonsai. "No, Ed. You know what happened the last time you tried to fly."

"Awwww," Ed frowned. "Ed's better this time. Promise!" she held one hand over her heart.

Jet shook his head. "No can do, Ed. I can't afford to replace any of our ships."

"Fine, Ed didn't really want to fly anyway," she huffed. Bouncing onto her hands again, she "walked" out of the room, feet swaying in the air. "Let Ed know when you have the coooodes!" she said as she left.

Jet chuckled. Even when Ed was upset, she was never mad. He'd do her a good one and get those codes.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a familiar number.

Bob picked up on the third ring. Jet propped his phone against one of the bonsai so that he could see and talk to Bob and still trim his trees.

"Hey, Jet, how're things on the  _Bebop_?" Bob was sitting in the same old office, the same old blue glare lighting his face from the same old computer. Even after his promotion to Captain a few years ago, he'd refused to move to a bigger, fancier space.

"Oh, you know us, Bob. Nothing new."

"I can't believe you're still doing the bounty hunting gig."

"I can't believe you're still a cop."

"Old habits die hard."

"Same here."

"Speaking of old habits, I've heard a rumor going around lately."

"Yeah?" Jet's curiosity was piqued.

"Yeah, 'bout a certain Cowboy who may or may not be back on the register after a fifteen year hiatus. You know anything about this, Jet?"

Jet nodded. "You're not going to believe it, Bob, but he's on my ship as we speak."

"It's him? No way."

Jet shook his head. "It's not Spike. But you know the old bastard had a son and didn't tell anybody?"

"You have Spiegel's son on your ship?"

Jet grinned. "Bona fide, Bob. Ed tagged the kid for some DNA and he's the real thing."

"No wonder the Syndicates are raising their heads at this one."

"That's actually what I want to talk to you about." Jet carefully trimmed a branch on the bonsai in front of him.

"The Syndicates? Jet, what are you planning?"

"It might be better if you don't know, Bob."

"But you need my help, don't you?"

"As usual." Jet grinned.

Bob glanced around like he was looking for unwanted listeners, even though there never were any. Bob was the most thorough cop Jet knew and one of the best at keeping his tracks covered. There'd be little danger of anyone interfering in their conversation. "Ok, what do you need this time?"

"Just a couple of access codes."

Bob ran a hand over his face. "And this is why I didn't want that promotion. Even a Captain can't just go handing this stuff out left and right, Jet." Bob paused. "Access codes for what exactly?"

"The ISSP bounty database."

"You want to add a bounty?" Bob asked. "How about you just do it the legal way and submit the paperwork?"

"Because, I don't want anyone from the  _Bebop_ on these bounties. We need to make this look like an outside source has upped the ante."

"Let me guess, your hacker is your 'outside source.'"

"Right again, Bob." Jet smiled at his friend and gave him a sly glance. "Don't tell me you don't enjoy a little excitement every now and then."

"I got enough excitement on my plate what with these Syndicates running amok. You know the Red Dragon's back? And they're peddling a new drug in the streets, too. Here on Ganymede no less."

"Yup," Jet agreed. "That's what we're working on right now. So don't be surprised when a couple of the Dragon's leaders show up on the bounty list."

"What? Are you crazy? You do that and the Dragon will target bounty hunters the galaxy over. You want to start a war?"

"Of course not!" Jet protested. "But we'd prefer to operate while sanctioned by the ISSP, if you catch my drift."

Bob rolled his eyes. "Are you planning something illegal?"

"Nothing illegal in the pursuit of a legal bounty," Jet promised. "Besides, having every bounty hunter in the galaxy on the Dragon's tail will force them to retreat to their nest, which is what Ed and I are hoping for."

"You're taking the advice of your hacker?" Bob asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well, that, and the intuition of Spiegel's boy."

"My god, Jet, you're going to fight the Syndicate with a couple of kids?"

"Bob, if I had a choice, I'd fight the Syndicate with Spike. But I've got the next best thing and that's crew members I trust. If everything goes according to plan, we bag these guys, cripple the Syndicate for you, and hand it all over to ISSP with a nice bow on it."

"And if it goes wrong?"

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time we had to resort to Plan B."

"More like Plan Z." Bob was trying to hide a smile and failing. "Fine. I'll give you the codes. But if I find myself as a bounty, I'm turning you in."

Jet laughed. "You'd have to catch me first. Thanks, Bob, I owe ya."

"Don't you always?" Bob grinned.

* * *

"How do you stand her, Jet?"

Two nights later Jet and Leon sat in the bridge, plans, maps, and Jet's computer spread out on the shogi board. (Jet had finally agreed to give up the current game.) They had cooling plates of a dubious dish Jet dubbed bell peppers and beef sitting between them. Despite his thorough investigation, Leon had yet to find any beef in it. Ed was sprawled in the navigator's chair, playing with the newly obtained ISSP passcodes Bob sent. She had her goggles on and was talking to herself in between heaping bites of food.

Jet swallowed a forkful of bell peppers and beef. "Faye barks worse than she bites."

"I think she hates me," Leon said, swirling his food around his plate.

"I'm sure it's not that bad."

Leon gave him a baleful look and gestured with his fork to indicate Faye's obvious lack of presence.

"I see," Jet rubbed his chin. "She told you as much, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, Ed, how many times has Faye told you she hates you?"

"Um...twelve," Ed said, holding up ten fingers and two toes around Tomato. "Or maybe thirteen. Ed forgets."

"I've lost count of how many times she's said that to me," Jet said. "And she probably tells Ein daily. Right boy?"

Ein barked in agreement.

"See, kid? It's not just you."

Leon chuckled. "Ok, but at least she doesn't think you should be someone else every time she looks at you."

"Is that why she stormed off the bridge the other night?"

"More or less," Leon tilted his left shoulder in his best approximation of a shrug.

Jet took a deep breath and steepled his fingers in front of him, dangling his fork between them. "Faye took it real hard when Spike left the  _Bebop_. I take it you've gathered that by now."

"How can I not?" he said around a mouthful of bell peppers.

"When Faye and I searched the Dragon's hideout after Spike blew the place up, we never found his body. We both wanted that to mean he was still alive. Problem is, we never heard from him again. A couple years went by and, at that point, I was convinced Spike was gone. He wouldn't leave us hanging like that if he was still alive. But Faye didn't want to accept that. Then you come along and it's like staring the past in the face. For all of us."

Jet paused. "I think she just took it harder because, even after all this time, she still expects the old lunkhead to come back and just pick up where he left off."

"She loved him, didn't she?" Leon asked.

"In her own way," Jet agreed. "But Spike never could see past Julia, and Faye couldn't see past that. Facing you now is like staring down her failures in human form."

"Seems like that's all I'm good for," Leon muttered.

"Don't say that!" Ed interrupted.

Leon looked up in surprise. He didn't think Ed was even listening.

"You're good for a lot more than making Faye Faye mad," Ed continued. "Besides, Faye Faye is always ruffled under the feathers. Ed thinks that why she plays ponies."

"Horse races," Jet explained to Leon's confused look.

"Oh," Leon nodded but it didn't make much sense to him. "Well thanks, Ed."

"Anytime!" Ed saluted him. She hit some keys on Tomato and cheered. "Passcodes worked!" She declared. "Ed is in." She wiggled her fingers over the keyboard. "You want Ed to post the bounties now?"

"You can post them anytime, right?" Jet asked.

"Yup!"

"Good. Let's wait until we're good and ready for this before we do it."

"What is Ed posting?" Leon asked.

"Well, Ed and I thought we might add Draugh and Andross to Villanova's bounty."

Leon grinned. "You guys are good," he said.

"I'd like to think we have a little experience in the field," Jet said, lacing his fingers behind his head. "This way if we break anything while catching these guys, the worst the ISSP can do is take it out of our bounty and not our hides."

"Does that happen often?" Leon asked.

"The destruction or the ISSP taking our bounty?" Jet asked drily.

Ed laughed. "Bang, bang, crash!" she shouted, pretending to point a gun and pull the trigger. " _Bebop Bebop_ 's money goes bye-bye."

"I see," Leon said. "Well, if it makes you both feel any better, I don't have anything that...destructive in mind."

"You got a plan, kid?"

"The beginnings of one."

"What does it involve?"

"A touch of larceny, perhaps some blackmail, and a hefty dose of subterfuge."

"Sounds fun!" Ed said.

"Lay it on us, Leon," Jet clapped a hand on Leon's good shoulder.

* * *

Faye sat cross-legged on her bed, a cigarette dangling between her painted fingernails. Jet had brought her dinner and an invitation to join their planning session, but she declined. The plate of bell peppers and beef sat untouched on her night stand.

Faye hunched over the old TV and Beta player she kept in her room. She'd watched this tape so many times now that the images blurred and the words sometimes repeated, but she didn't have to see it clearly to know what happened. She watched her younger self shake pom-poms in the air and cheer for her future self. Her now self.

She flicked the TV off. She closed her eyes and flopped back on the bed, her younger self's cheer repeating in her head, like a song on loop. If only her younger self knew what she'd be facing about 50 years in the future. She certainly never imagined the crazy and dramatic soap opera her life had become. Frozen for almost twenty years in order to survive an accident that should have killed her. In debt for medical bills she hadn't even consented to. And in love with a man who hadn't lived long enough to return the feelings.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, blowing smoke. And now she was confronted with the painful reality of Spike's love for Julia, walking around the Bebop like he owned the place.

"Stupid, kid," she muttered to herself. "No one fights the Dragon and lives. You're just going in to die."

She felt tears well up in her eyes and blinked furiously to stop them. She could almost feel the cold, hard grip of the gun in her hand all those nights ago. She'd thought about pulling the trigger. For a heartbeat. Perhaps if she'd shot him, he would have stayed. Perhaps he wouldn't have gone to fight the Dragon. Perhaps she would be watching a son of her own grow up on the Bebop, instead of taking in Spike's orphan.

Who was she kidding? The Dragon would have taken Spike whether she detained him that night or not. It was a calling stronger than his own life. Vicious would have raised the Syndicate into a killing machine with one target - Spike. A tear escaped and slipped across her cheek. No matter what she'd done to try and make him stay, he would've eventually had to go. She sat up and snuffed her cigarette in an ashtray on her bedside table.

And now his son was about to take the entire crew of the Bebop on a second suicide mission just to wipe out a Syndicate that would grow back in a few years.

"Why can't anyone I care about ever stay?" She grabbed her pillow and buried her face in it.


	14. Session Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in the updates! I realized I skipped last week (oops!), so here's two chapters this week ;)

A few weeks later, Leon stood in the bridge one evening, facing his reflection in the windows. He was pleased to see himself without the sling. Jet had finally given him the ok to remove it and start using his right arm again. The  _Bebop_ was quiet. Jet was making dinner and Faye was holed up in her room. Ed was somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Leon took a deep breath and brushed a stray curl of hair from his eyes. He'd snitched Jet's Walther from where he'd left it in the living room after cleaning it earlier. He had the gun holstered under his left arm, where he usually carried his own pistol. He fingered the grip of the Walther. It felt awkward in his palm, but it would do the trick.

Facing his reflection, he took up a ready stance, hands up in a defensive position. And then he closed his eyes, and summoned his first fight with Draugh to memory. He moved back, as if dodging a punch, then threw one of his own at his invisible opponent. Leon never had anyone to teach him to fight, but he'd taught himself by reliving his real-life fights over and over in his head, making his body go through the motions until they were second nature. Until using them on the real thing was as fluid and easy as his shadow fights. Until he could hold his own against the older boys at the orphanage and the thugs in the Alba City back alleys. He shifted his feet again and threw his hands up to block an incoming hit. In his mind's eye, he took the upper hand, forcing Draugh back to the edge of the pier. Leon's breathing came faster and he opened his eyes, adding the landscape of the bridge into his fight. The shogi table became cover from his opponent, the navigator's chair an obstacle placed in his way.

Leon continued his shadow fight, letting some of the anger he felt at Draugh dissipate into thin air as he pummeled his imaginary opponent into something unrecognizable. Why did the Dragon care so much about their wounded sense of pride? Who wanted to give their life so thoroughly to a Syndicate that they had to take the life of another just to satisfy their honor? Leon ducked and rolled away from an imaginary kick. He sprang to his feet, his shoulder catching only slightly from the pressure of his somersault. His punches and movements came faster now. Sweat dripped from his hair as he punctuated the punches with grunts.

Leon spun on one heel, preparing to deliver his finishing blow. He dropped to one knee and slid to avoid an overhead blow, then jumped to his feet and grabbed the Walther in the same motion. He came up in a draw pointing straight at Faye.

She froze at the top of the stairs. Her eyes went wide.

"Faye!" Leon exclaimed. For three long heartbeats, the only sound in the bridge was Leon's steady breathing. Guilt colored his pride when his arm didn't waver.

She opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but no words came out. The spell was broken. Leon pulled his arm up so the Walther pointed at the ceiling.

"It's not loaded," Leon assured her.

"That's good," she said. Her voice was steady.

"Sorry about that." Leon holstered Jet's gun.

"What are you doing up here?" Faye asked carefully.

"Training," Leon answered.

"Oh," Faye nodded.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for you."

"Really?" Leon's surprise was genuine. Ever since Faye's outburst on the bridge, the two of them had been avoiding each other. Leon wasn't actively trying to shun Faye, but every time he tried to start a conversation with her, she shut him down. Or diverted the conversation to someone else. The fact that she'd seek him out now made him suspicious. "I thought we weren't talking."

"We're not," Faye said, but her tone was lighter than usual. "But I want to show you something."

"What is it?" Leon asked.

"Come with me." Faye motioned with her hand.

"Ok." Leon gave her a sideways look, but he followed. He dropped off Jet's Walther as they passed through the living room, then followed Faye down the hallway where the crew's rooms were. They passed by Jet in the kitchen and Ed's open room, which looked like an explosion and a hurricane had a child. Past Faye's room, which she kept carefully closed up, and Jet's neatly organized bunk. Faye stopped in front of the last door in the hall. Spike's room. Leon stopped behind her, curious but cautious. The last time this room came up in conversation, Faye wasn't happy about it. Why would she bring him here?

Faye pulled a key from her pocket and slid it into the old-fashioned doorknob. With a slight click, the doorknob turned and Faye opened the door. She stepped inside and motioned Leon in after her. He followed. He stepped across the threshold and paused. The room was functional and neat with a bed and a dresser and a small closet space. The bed was made, the dresser bare. Spike's old clothes hung in the closet. Crates filled with weapons and ammunition sat in the corners of the room-grenades, guns, and various explosive compounds. A few tactical readouts were tacked to the walls. Leon raised his eyebrows. He had expected...well, more. This room was nearly bare of any personal effects and there wasn't much to show what kind of person his father had been.

"So, this is it?" he asked.

Faye cut him a glance out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah. This is Spike's room. He wasn't much for stuff."

"I can tell. It looks like an arsenal in here."

"He always did like making a bang."

"So, uh, I thought you wanted to keep me out of here."

Faye turned away. "I did."

"Change your mind?"

"Obviously."

Leon ran a hand over the dresser top. No dust. "You cleaned it up, didn't you?"

He watched Faye nod in the reflection of the small mirror mounted over the dresser.

"You can keep whatever you took out of it," Leon said.

He saw Faye jump and look up with a guilty expression. She wiped it away quickly. He turned to face her again.

She was quiet for a long time. "Thank you."

Leon shrugged. "You knew him better than me. I'm not going to hold it against you if you want a few mementos."

"You don't resent me for it?"

"Why would I?"

"I knew your father better than you ever will," Faye said. "Doesn't that bother you? That any past with him is lost? That who you thought you were isn't who you really are?"

Leon looked around the room. He sighed. "Not really." He sat down on the bed and leaned back on his hands to look up at her. He instinctively favored his right shoulder, putting less weight on it than the left. "Can't bother me much when who I thought I was isn't nearly as interesting as who I found out I am," he gave her a lopsided grin.

"Who'd you think you were?" Faye asked quietly.

Leon shrugged. "Nobody. I used to invent parents for myself as a kid. Cowboys or cops or soldiers or something exciting. But I never had any real information about my parents. The only real thing I knew was that they gave me up. So I invented reasons why they had to let me go. None of it compared to the truth though."

"But don't you wish you could meet Spike and Julia?" Faye said her name without skipping a beat.

"Maybe I wasn't meant to meet them. Maybe who I am isn't a reflection of who they were, but who they could've been."

Faye looked like she was on the verge of tears. "How can you just accept it like that?"

"What good would it do to fight it? I can't change it. Would I like to? Yeah, I would. I'd like to know my parents. But you know, I feel like, in some way, I do. I know my mother loved me enough to protect me. And I know that my father loved her enough to try and change the world for her. I think that's pretty good, don't you?"

Faye slowly sank down onto the bed beside Leon. "When you put it that way," she said, "it kind of is."

"I know I remind you of things you'd rather not remember. And I know you're scared I'll walk away and die and you won't be able to stop me. But I promise you Faye, I'm not going to fight the Dragon to the death. I've found a family here on the  _Bebop_. I want that more than anything in the galaxy. But I don't want you guys to be in danger just because I'm on the ship. I need to free myself from the Dragon. You of all people should understand that."

"The worst part is, I do understand." Faye pulled a cigarette out of her shirt and lit it with a lighter she produced from the same place. She offered the light to Leon and he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. She stowed the lighter back in her shirt. "Which is why I hate it. Because I know I'd probably do the same thing in your shoes."

"Wanna put my shoes on then?"

Faye glared at him.

Leon hid behind a cloud of smoke. "Sorry."

"Since I can't talk you out of this, I guess I'm going to prepare you for it." She reached into her red jacket and pulled out a gun. She handed it to Leon without looking at him.

He took it and was surprised at how easily it fit his hand. It was a modified Jericho, with a sight mounted on one side. He aimed it at his reflection in the mirror and mimed a shot, letting his hand bounce back with imaginary recoil.

"It was the only thing we recovered that night," Faye said quietly.

Leon looked over at her in surprise, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. "You want me to have it? You're serious?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I kept what I wanted." She smiled. "Besides, I figure your hand's gonna fit that better than mine," she gestured at the Jericho. "You lost your pistol at the temple. I'm not letting you fight the Dragon unarmed."

Leon lay the gun on the bed beside him and gave Faye a hug. She stiffened, but then relaxed and let him wrap his arms around her. "Thanks, Faye." He sat back. "I mean it."

"Yeah. Now stay alive long enough to use it," she said.

"Hey!" a shout from down the hall interrupted them. "Dinner's ready! Come and get it!" Jet yelled.

Faye stood up and walked to the door.

"Hey, Faye?"

She paused, cigarette in hand, turning her face just enough for Leon to see her profile.

"I won't let you down. I promise," he said.

She was gone before his words died, leaving a cloud of smoke and a key dangling in the doorknob.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know they use keys in ships, don't recall if there's any shown in doors in Cowboy Bebop...but seeing as how the Bebop and Spike are both a little old-fashioned, I felt it was kind of fitting he'd lock his room with a key. And again, in a world of hackers and technology, I feel like Spike might trust a good old-fashioned lock and key-especially with Ed on board (although I imagine she can pick locks too)


	15. Session Fifteen

"Ed's got it!" Ed yelled, throwing a triumphant fist in the air.

Leon and Jet looked up from the shogi table where they actually had a game in progress. Faye gave Ed a look from over the top of her paperback romance.

"What've you got this time, Ed?" Jet asked, chin propped in his metal hand. The  _Bebop_ had been on Tharsis for two days, waiting on a perfect chance to infiltrate the Dragon. So far nothing had presented itself. Ed had been typing instructions into Tomato non-stop for several hours now, coming up with option after option, but nothing looked promising.

"Aw, c'mon, guys, Ed's really got it this time. Be excited, ok?"

Leon slid a knight across the board. "We are excited," he said. "We're just working on our poker faces."

"Hey, some of us have those perfected," Faye said.

Leon snorted.

"You haven't played poker with me yet," Faye huffed.

"Good luck getting me to."

"Forget poker," Ed said. "Feast your eyes on this!" she spun Tomato around so they could all see the screen.

"It's a truck, Ed," Jet scratched his head.

"Yup!"

"Carrying medical supplies?" Leon asked, noticing the red cross symbol on the side of the truck. Jet captured his knight with a crafty smile. Leon frowned.

"That's what they want you to think."

"The Dragon?" Leon asked, retaliating by snagging Jet's bishop. Jet frowned.

"Yup!" Ed turned Tomato back around and started typing again. "Andross is packing his brain suckers as we speak and putting them in this truck," she waved at the screen even though the others couldn't see it. "Then he ships it to Tharsis sneaky sneaky. Undercover as doctors! Ooh, how clever," Ed giggled. "There's your way in, Leo!"

"Hey, you might be onto something."

"Ed has more," Ed promised. "Andross is coming in the flesh. Seems like the coppers are getting on his nerves."

Jet smiled. He'd given Bob a few tips on that one.

Leon's eyes lit up with excitement. "Even better! This could work, Jet!"

"What could work?" Faye asked. "Why am I always the one in the dark here?"

Jet nodded. "It would be a perfect way in. And if Andross really is coming, he'll be a good bargaining tool."

"Bargaining tool for what?" Faye whined.

"For getting the Dragon," Leon said. "Besides, if Andross is in that truck, then that's one down already."

"Bye-bye truck, hello money for  _Bebop Bebop_!" Ed said.

"Not if you haven't posted those bounties yet," Jet reminded her.

"Ed is waaaay ahead of you." She winked and hit another key on Tomato. "Bounties are live as of...now!"

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?!" Faye shouted.

"Oh, right," Jet looked over his shoulder at her. "I seem to remember somebody refusing to join our planning session a few weeks ago so she could pout instead."

"I do not pout," Faye crossed her arms.

"You're for sure in on this, right?" Jet asked.

"Well, yeah."

"Because I seem to remember somebody wanting to tear our arms off for going on this mission, too."

"That'd be a shame," Leon muttered. "Seeing as how I just got mine back."

"Haha, very funny." Faye stuck her tongue out. "Yes, I'm in. Since I can't seem to stop you lunkheads, I guess I'll have to make sure you don't get killed."

"Aw, we're touched, Faye. Really." Jet laid a hand over his heart.

"Shut up before you get on my bad side," Faye threatened, but her scowl didn't reach her eyes.

"I thought we were already on your bad side." Leon smirked.

" _You_  are." Faye said, raising her chin haughtily.

"Oops." Leon's tone clearly said he didn't think it was accidental.

"But seriously, will someone fill me in?" Faye asked.

"Ask Leo," Ed chirped. "It's his idea."

Faye looked over at Leon.

He cleared his throat and raised one hand with a flourish.

Jet rolled his eyes.

"We need a fast way to take out the Dragon, right?"

"Right," Faye said when he paused.

"It would be ideal if we had all two-or three-" he gave Faye a look, "Dragon leaders in one spot. That way, we can just hand them over to ISSP all at once. Then we don't even have to play clean-up on the rest of the Syndicate. The Syndicate is using Dragon's Eye to grow their influence across the galaxy, so I figure the fastest way to sabotage the Dragon and get their attention is to steal their Dragon's Eye. Then, we make an arrangement with them to trade back the Dragon's Eye for, I don't know, several million woolongs," Leon waved his hand in the air like that sum was no big deal. "But when they show up to trade, instead of giving them the drugs, we give them handcuffs and voila! Problems solved."

"That's great, kid, but where are we getting our hands on that much Dragon's Eye?" Faye asked.

"That's where Ed comes in," Ed said. "Ed found the Dragon's Eye! It's in this truck," she spun Tomato and pointed at her screen again.

"Ok, but hijacking a truck is illegal," Faye said. "Even if it is Syndicate owned."

"Since when have you cared about whether anything was legal?" Jet raised an eyebrow. "Besides, when it's in pursuit of a bounty, hijacking a Syndicate truck is entirely legal."

"Yeah, but Villanova isn't listed as a Syndicate bounty. So going after Dragon property is just asking for trouble."

"Ed, show her what you've been up to," Leon said.

Ed hopped off her perch on the  _Bebop_ 's console and put her computer on the shogi table, careful not to scatter too many pieces. Jet still grumbled when one of his pawns was shifted out of the way. Ed motioned Faye over. She walked up, her expression skeptical.

"Behold!" Ed pointed at Tomato which was displaying Villanova, Draugh, and Andross as bounties.

Faye whistled. "And they're all listed as Syndicate. You guys have this all thought out, don't you?"

"Ed's not a guy," Ed said.

Faye glared at her.

Ed laughed. "We planned while Faye Faye pouted."

"I told you already, I don't pout!"

Ed stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms, mirroring Faye.

"I don't look like-ugh!" Faye uncrossed her arms as she realized she did, indeed, look like that. "Just call me when you have a job for me, ok?" she huffed as she stomped downstairs.

"You think we overdid it a little?" Leon asked as she left.

"Nope!" Ed grinned.

* * *

"Ed, I thought you said they would be here," Leon said over his com. The  _Bebop_ was floating in space outside of the exit of a Dark Gate leading to Mars. After doing some digging, Ed found out that this was how the Dragon had been moving their new drug under the nose of the ISSP.

"They'll be here. Ed promises." Her voice came back somewhat distorted.

"They'd better." Faye buzzed in, sounding about as bored as Leon felt.

He and Faye were suited up and hovering at the Dark Gate exit in the  _Swordfish_ and the  _Redtail,_ waiting to get the surprise drop on the "medical" truck when it left the gate. With the  _Bebop_  standing by to lend a hand, they hoped to catch the truck quickly, without too much fuss. Then they'd tow her back to Mars and stow her in an ISSP warehouse Bob somehow managed to wrangle for them.

Leon leaned his forearms against the  _Swordfish_ 's console and sighed. "Maybe they figured out what we were doing and used a different Gate."

"And how were they supposed to figure that out?" Faye asked.

Leon shrugged and then realized no one could see the motion. "I dunno."

"Are you proposing we have a snitch?" Faye needled.

"Well, it isn't me."

"It's not Ed," Ed said.

"As the most senior member here, I am above suspicion," Jet chimed in.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Faye demanded.

"I'm too old and decrepit to snitch on anybody," Jet said.

"I thought you weren't old," Leon said.

"I'm not old. Just too old to be a snitch."

"Well, if that's the way we're playing, then it's Leon." Leon could hear the smile in Faye's voice. "He's the youngest."

"That makes me inexperienced, remember?" Leon joked. "So then it would be Ed."

"Ed doesn't lie. Ed just hunts for fishies. Faye Faye lies about the money she spends. She would be a good snitch."

"Hey! I do not lie about money-"

"What about that time you bought - what was it? - a Tharsis wolf fur coat for a 'paltry sum'?" Jet reminded her.

"Well, it was!"

"Until ISSP demanded the money from our last bounty for that office building you blew up. And you refused to sell back the coat to cover damages. So Ed and I had to pay out of pocket."

"Hey! I lost that coat chasing down a bounty _you_ recommended, so I'd say we're even!"

"That's not even," Jet exclaimed. "That's -"

"Here she comes!" Ed interrupted Jet. "Lookie lookie!"

Leon jolted upright as a truck materialized in front of him, sliding effortlessly out of the Dark Gates. It's triangular front end nosed out of the Gate first, followed by a cargo container with a bright red cross painted on the side. The truck barreled forward without a second thought.

"Jam their radio, Ed!" Leon said.

"On it!"

There was a moment's surprise as the truck visibly slowed, as if the driver were having second thoughts about leaving the Gate. Leon imagined the men inside reaching for their radios to call for help, only to realize that they weren't working. He swooped down in the  _Swordfish_ , heading for the front of the truck. As he neared the truck, a compartment on the top of the cargo container opened up and a military grade machine gun rose out of it. A scathing line of fire swept toward the  _Swordfish._

"Oh, hell, what is that!?" Leon yelped, as he put the  _Swordfish_ into an evasive spiral. He felt the ship shudder as something clipped his left wing. He took her into a dive, dropping below the machine gun's arc. As he dropped beneath the truck, he tilted the  _Swordfish_ 's nose up and let loose with the plasma cannon, aiming for the truck's engines.

"Well it's definitely not standard artillery on a medical truck," Faye growled as the machine gun took aim at her and she flew sideways to dodge the incoming fire.

The truck took a sharp right turn, attempting to cut between the  _Redtail_ and the  _Swordfish_ only to find their way blocked by the much bigger and more intimidating  _Bebop._ The cannon rotated to aim at the  _Bebop._ Faye flew across the front of the truck, peppering them with gunfire. It wasn't heavy enough to do serious damage, but it was a thorough distraction. The truck swayed wildly as the driver attempted to avoid the gunfire. Leon rose up from behind the truck and gave the machine gun a well-placed round from his plasma cannon. The blue shot splattered over the machine gun, short-circuiting the system and frying its electrical components. Over his radio, he heard Ed cheer.

A second later there was an explosion from the front of the truck and the truck's speed dropped as Faye put a couple rounds into their engines. The truck was now at the mercy of the  _Bebop,_ unable to flee.

"It's about time for that tow cable, Jet!" she radioed.

"Gotcha covered," Jet said. A few moments later, Jet appeared on the Bebop's deck in a space suit, lugging a heavy tow cable. Faye flew over in the  _Redtail_ and grabbed one end of the cable in her ship's pincers. She flew it back over to the truck. Leon made sure his space suit was sealed, then popped the hatch on the  _Swordfish._ He slid himself out of the pilot's seat and drifted down to the top of the truck. The magnets in his boots helped him stick to the cargo container and he walked toward the front of the truck. He slid down to the driver's side door and peered inside. A scowling Andross met his curious gaze. Leon smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He pulled a length of wire out of his pocket and wired the door shut from the outside. Clambering over the top of the truck again, he did the same thing to the other side, ignoring the rude gestures Andross' sidekick gave him.

After securing the doors, he made his way back to the top of the truck. Faye hovered over the truck, tow cable clutched in the  _Redeye_ 's pincer grip. Leon grabbed the dangling towline. Big rigs like this one always had tow cable hook ups behind the cab, in case they broke down in space and had to be towed in. He gave Faye the thumbs up and set about anchoring the towline to the truck.

"Hey, you got me patched through yet, Ed?" Jet asked, now back inside the  _Bebop._

"Just about...now."

"Red Dragon, this is  _Bebop._ Can you hear me?" Jet crackled over the radio. Faye and Leon kept their channels open so they could all hear the conversation. This also meant that Faye and Leon could speak to Andross although Jet had cautioned them both to let him do the talking.

"We hear you,  _Bebop._ But this isn't Red Dragon. This truck is a medical truck carrying pharmaceutical drugs to Mars," Andross answered. "You are interfering with official Mars business and if you don't back off now, you will be prosecuted. You have no right to ambush us like this."

"Ooh, prosecuted. Scary," Faye purred.

"As cowboys, we have every right to detain a legal bounty in any capacity we deem reasonable." Jet sounded like he was quoting something.

"I am not a bounty!" Andross replied angrily. "I am a pharmacist bringing medical supplies to Mars and I ask again that you back down or I'll call ISSP."

"By all means, go ahead. You'll be doing half of my job for me," Jet said.

There was some interference on the radio that sounded like a growl.

"That's right, Andross. You might want to check the bounty listings if you haven't recently. I think you'll find out the Red Dragon has more problems than you know about."

"Is that right, Lucaza?" Andross snarled.

"Recognized my voice, did you?" Jet chuckled.

"Have you just been playing the Syndicate all along?" there was something bordering on respect in Andross' voice.

"You might say that," Jet said. "It's in our job description, you know."

"Geez, I'm not getting paid enough for this," Andross muttered. Then he continued. Although there was nothing different about the way he spoke, Leon instantly knew he was addressing him. "You know you can't hide from the Dragon, boy. You think you're clever, trying to lure them in like fish in a net. But you don't know what you're about to catch."

"I believe I just caught you, Andross," Leon said as he jerked the tow cable in place. It made a satisfyingly loud  _clank_  that he was sure sounded more ominous inside the truck. "Which is a shame because I thought you weren't half-bad when I met you. You know, aside from the obvious drug-dealing Dragon friends you keep."

"At least it's better than what I've heard about your murdering father," Andross said snidely. "I may deal drugs, but I didn't gun down an entire Syndicate."

"Look, Spike had his reasons, and so do we," Jet derailed the conversation before it went further. "We're just riding drag and rounding up the stragglers. It'll go easier with you if you come quietly. Kill the line, Ed," Jet muttered.

A second later, the radio channel burst into static. Leon scowled as he made his way back across the truck to the  _Swordfish_. "Spike wasn't a murderer," he said to himself. "The Dragon deserved it."

* * *

"I knew you looked like trouble when you came to the Den," Andross muttered. Leon and Jet marched a handcuffed Andross and his henchman (luckily it wasn't the trigger-happy Jag) to the  _Bebop_ 's holding cell. After transporting several bounties tied to various points in the ship, Jet and Faye added the holding cell to one of the  _Bebop_ 's storage rooms. The holding cell was a steel cage built into one wall with bars forming the other three walls. It was big enough to hold about four men comfortably. Leon had yet to see it in use, but he felt a strange sense of pride that Andross was the first man he put in it.

"Glad I didn't disappoint," Leon said, prodding Andross into the holding cell with his newly acquired Jericho. Andross stepped inside like he was walking into a new home.

"Nice place. The bars on the door really give it that extra something," he said. Leon didn't answer. He stepped out of the way as Jet guided Andross' henchman into the cell too. Jet closed the heavy steel door. It locked automatically and could only be unlocked by keying in a command on a keypad set into the wall a few feet away.

"Well, I guess that takes care of that for now," Jet said, rubbing his hands together.

"Looks like it," Leon agreed.

Jet turned to leave the storage room and Leon followed. Just as Leon was about to step through the circular door into the  _Bebop_ 's revolving halls, Andross called out to him.

"So, you're the Spiegel kid, huh?"

Leon paused, letting Jet walk ahead. He turned back toward the holding cell. "And if I am?"

Andross shrugged. "It means nothing to me. I'm just the Dragon's Eye dealer. But the Syndicate has plans for you."

Leon walked back up to the cell. "What do you know about them?"

Andross shrugged. Despite his hands being cuffed in front of him, he leaned casually against the wall like he'd put himself in the cell on purpose. "Not much. I'm not high on the totem pole." He flashed a grin. "I'm just paid to grow drugs."

"You're not a part of the Syndicate?" Leon asked, narrowing his eyes.

Andross shook his head. "Not formally. They just pay me more than anybody else." Andross gave Leon a pointed look.

Leon crossed his arms. "Mad about the fake woolongs, are we?"

"Well, I'll be honest, it was a bit of a letdown. I was beginning to think Lucaza was for real and I was about to be loaded."

"Is that all your loyalty amounts to? A pocketful of cash?"

"Can you blame me?" Andross smiled. "All I did was sell out to the highest bidder. If your offer was real, I would've sold out to you. As it was, I ended up telling the Dragon about some lousy bum who tried to buy me out but didn't have the cash to back his offer."

Leon snorted. "Look, I don't really care who you sell out to. You're a bountyhead either way."

"Is that all I am to you? A pocketful of cash?" Andross parroted.

Leon scowled.

"They told me you'd probably be as cold as your father." Andross gave him a calculating look.

"Look, if they told you you could use my father as leverage against me, you can't. I never knew him, so if I'm anything like him, it's not because of him."

"You have the same hatred for the Syndicate," Andross pointed out.

"The Syndicate is the reason he's dead."

"He's the reason that most of the Syndicate is dead."

"Is that a bad thing?" Leon asked.

Andross shrugged again. "Depends on how you look at it, I suppose."

"Well, I suppose it's bad if you work for them, but that's your fault for picking the wrong employer."

Andross chuckled. "You got me there. I'm just a shark drawn to blood and the Dragon's full of it."

Leon put his hands in his pockets and spoke over his shoulder as he walked away. "And I'm just a bounty hunter who's gonna clean up all that blood."

* * *

When Leon got back to the living room, the rest of the crew was already gathered.

"Hob-nobbing with the prisoners, are we?" Faye asked.

"Oh, they're a real riot," Leon said. "You'd like Andross. He's got the same eye for money you do."

"Why do I even put up with you?" Faye rolled her eyes.

"Because I live here." Leon dropped into a chair at the coffee table and gave Faye a charming smile.

"Grow up, you two," Jet muttered. He and Ed were sitting on the couch, hunched over Tomato.

"Yes, sir." Leon gave Jet a mock salute.

Faye flung herself into the second chair with a dramatic sigh. "Now what?"

"Now we tell the Dragon we stole their drugs and their scientist is making his new home in the bottom of our ship." Leon said, propping his boots on the coffee table. Faye frowned, but she didn't say anything.

"I don't think having them come to us is a good idea," Jet said, sitting back and crossing his arms.

"Finally!" Faye said. "I've been trying to tell you guys this from the beginning. What do you say fellas? We turn in Andross and let ISSP handle the rest."

"That's not what I meant, Faye," Jet said.

Faye pouted. "It was worth a shot, right?"

"Wrong," Leon muttered.

Faye glared at him.

"What I mean is, having the Dragon come to us tips the hand in their favor," Jet explained. "Nothing screams ambush louder than 'hey, come to my warehouse, I've got your drugs'."

"So you're saying we should go to them?" Leon asked, eyebrow raised.

"Like ninjas?" Ed asked, looking over the top of Tomato. Ein peeked his head over the top of the computer too. Ed pushed him back down.

Jet shook his head. "No, then we'd just be walking into their arms. I think we should agree to meet them in a neutral place for this deal. A public place. Somewhere where a firefight would be too obvious. Somewhere that makes the Dragon behave."

"You got somewhere in mind?" Faye asked.

"Perhaps," Jet said with a smile.

"And where might that be?" Faye narrowed her eyes.

"How would you like to go place some bets, Faye?"

"You're proposing we meet them in a casino?" Faye asked, incredulous. But there was no disguising the interest in her voice.

"Why not?" Jet asked. "Syndicate deals often go down in casinos and bars for the precise reason that they're filled with civilians."

"Wouldn't that put people in danger though?" Leon asked.

"Not really," Jet said. "The whole point of doing the deal in the middle of a civilian crowd is that both sides have to behave. You can't bring in your weapons and you've got to conduct yourself with at least a drop of civility. Casinos also usually have their own security, which we could use to our advantage," Jet winked.

"So we can hide one of us on the inside," Leon said.

"Exactly."

"Ok, but I'm not playing backup this time," Faye declared.

"And I'm not burly enough to be a security guard," Leon added.

"Ed's Ed," Ed said, grinning widely at Jet.

Ein just barked.

Jet sighed and put his head in his hand. "It was my idea. Shouldn't I hand out the jobs?"


	16. Session Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally started this story, it was all from Leon's perspective. Then, as I got farther into it, I began to see some of the scenes from other characters' perspectives, so from here on out, we get to mix it up. Hope you enjoy!

Villanova leaned back in her chair and scowled at the paperwork sitting on her desk. Running a Syndicate took more attention than she cared to admit and she found she didn't envy Mao Yenrai the job. Too bad the old man was rotting in a grave. They could use someone with his organizational skills. And all due to that stupid Spike Spiegel. Nevermind that it was Vicious who killed Yenrai. While crazy as hell, Vicious at least had the drive to turn the Syndicate into the iron fist it was meant to be. If Yenrai had just listened to Vicious he wouldn't be dead. The Syndicate wouldn't have gone soft. Spike Spiegel wouldn't have been able to bust in here and kill them all.

It'd been fifteen years. Fifteen long, hard years of scrounging the streets for hard men, cold guns, and quick money. Looking back on it all, Villanova was proud of herself. When she'd come in from the field to find the tower in ruins, she didn't run like a dog with its tail between its legs. She grabbed the sinking Syndicate by its bootstraps and hauled it back from the brink of destruction. And now she had herself an army, a drug trade, and a personal suite at the top of the newly rebuilt Red Dragon tower. She had herself a Syndicate.

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She arranged the papers on her desk into a suitably neat and inconspicuous pile, making sure that names, accounts, and balances were hidden. She took her time arranging the desk. After a nosy Syndicate member made the mistake of getting himself shot for knocking twice, nobody else had tried the stunt. Villanova liked the fear of absolute power she'd spread amongst her underlings.

"Come in," she invited once her desk was clean.

The door opened and her personal guard ushered a disgruntled Draugh into the room. He still looked like he'd fought a losing battle with a giant cactus. Villanova hardly bothered disguising the sneer that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Draugh had a myriad of still-fading scars on his face and hands from "the incident" as he'd come to refer to it. She noticed he'd gotten a new suit though, one not as shredded as his face.

"Any progress?" she asked.

Draugh gave her a baleful glare.

"I gave you one task, Draugh." She propped her boots up on her desk and gestured at the seat across from her. "One boy can't be this difficult."

Draugh took a seat. "This is the son of Spiegel, you know."

"Yes, yes," Villanova waved a hand. "And all that entails, I know."

"And he's not alone."

"As you discovered when you neglected to search the island," Villanova pointed out. "You're growing complacent in your old age, Draugh."

Draugh glared at her from hooded eyes. Villanova smiled, showing teeth. She was well-versed in the power struggle between herself and Draugh. He felt that he should have been in control of the newly arisen Syndicate, but Villanova wasn't letting him have it. He may've been the oldest surviving Dragon, but she was the one who took the time to rebuild. She was the one who sought him out. She was the one who hired the men. She was the one who capitalized on Dragon's Eye. Draugh was good for nothing more than smooth talking and being her right-hand man. Much as she hated to work with him sometimes, she also knew that he was loyal to the Syndicate above all else and as long as she presented a strong Syndicate, he would follow, even if he chafed at the leash.

"Complacency and subtlety are two different things," Draugh said, never breaking his composure.

"And how, might I ask, was anything at the temple subtle?"

"I offered him a place in the Dragon instead of blowing his head off."

"Draugh, you know I don't want him dead. Yet."

"You're wasting a potential asset, Miriatha."

"The boy won't join us. He told you as much himself."

"He could still be convinced."

Villanova shook her head. "No. He can't. He won't. It's not in his blood."

Draugh tilted his head. "His blood runs Dragon."

"Mmmm," Villanova nodded. "It does. But Spike left because he truly believed that the Syndicate was wrong. After the veneer washed away, Spike was done with us. He was never after the power. He just thrived on the adrenaline. And when the adrenaline wore off, Spike saw through it all. Spike was only Syndicate because he was raised Syndicate. Because Mao Yenrai painted a nice picture for a lonely child and convinced the boy to stay. If Spike's son shares half the morals his father had, he won't touch the Syndicate with a 50 foot pole."

"People can be persuaded, you know."

"He won't be inclined to listen to us after he's been taught to hate us by the ones who loved his father."

" _Bebop_ ," Draugh snarled.

"Exactly. If I believed in a god, I'd say he's working against us. Not only does that ragtag crew still exist, but they lifted our prize right out from under our noses. Luckily I don't believe in gods, just coincidence. And you can cut coincidence with a knife."

"Should I add the rest of the  _Bebop_ crew to our target list now?"

"No. Once we catch the boy, they'll come running all on their own," Villanova licked her lips. "I want this victory to sting. Which means they need to live and you are running out of time. We only have a few days left."

"As I'm well aware," Draugh said. "But we couldn't have accounted for the  _Bebop_ disappearing for almost a month."

"You still haven't located that junk heap?"

"She was spotted over Tharsis a day or two ago. I've got men on the streets looking for her. I believe they may be about to make their move and then, we make ours."

"I want every man available out looking for that ship. Understood?" Villanova took her boots off the table and sat up straight. "We can't get Spiegel's boy until we know where he's hiding."

Draugh nodded.

"Now, I'm sure you didn't come here just to tell me you haven't found the  _Bebop_ yet. What have you got for me?"

Draugh narrowed his eyes but refrained from a comeback. Instead he cleared his throat. "This may be nothing, but Andross has been delayed. We received a short transmission from his truck as it left the Dark Gate, but nothing in it was intelligible."

"Delayed?" Villanova arched one thin eyebrow. "Until when?"

"That's just it. We don't know. He hasn't answered any of our attempts at contact."

"Are you telling me that not only have you lost Spiegel's boy - twice - but you've lost our chemist now too?" Villanova's tone was low, dangerous.

"I am not responsible for Andross. He's a grown man, dammit. I'm not babysitting him to make sure he gets here safely."

"Did you give him an escort?"

"Of course not. We never have before. Besides, he was using the Dark Gates. Why would he need an escort?"

"I don't know, Draugh." Villanova put her head in her hand. "You tell me. Why would you put an escort on the biggest shipment of Dragon's Eye to cross the galaxy? Do you know how much was riding on that truck?"

"Yes," Draugh said through clenched teeth. "You act like you're the only competent one in this Syndicate, Miriatha, but I know perfectly well what was riding on that truck. And I intend to find it, one way or another. It can't be that -"

A beep from the phone on Villanova's desk interrupted Draugh.

They both stared daggers at the phone. Villanova pressed a button to answer. "Yes? What is it?"

"There's a man radioing in, ma'am," the head of her guard said. Villanova sighed.

"What of it, Captain? Men radio in all the time. Why is this important?"

"He's asking for you."

"Tell him I'm busy."

"He says this is about the missing truck, ma'am."

Villanova and Draugh shared a long look.

"Put him through."

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a crackle on the phone line for a moment, then static. A male voice came through the static, understandable, but electronically distorted. "Villanova?"

"Who is this?" Villanova demanded.

"A friend."

"I don't have friends," she quipped.

"A beneficial acquaintance, then. I've got your truck."

"And my chemist, I assume?"

"Yes. I'm willing to return them. For a price."

"Of course you are." Villanova grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. She tapped the end of the pen on the desk. "For how much?"

"I'll tell you when we meet. Come prepared to pay, but I'm up for negotiation."

"Generous, aren't you?" Villanova tossed the pen down.

"I haven't killed your chemist yet," the voice said. "I think that's pretty generous."

"I can find a new chemist."

"I'm sure you can. If you don't want to keep this one, I can dispose of him."

"No!" Draugh interrupted.

Villanova scowled at him.

There was a chuckle on the other end. "So, he is valuable. Don't worry. He's unharmed."

Villanova ground her teeth in frustration. "Keep him that way and there'll be a bonus in it for you," she snarled.

"Oh goody."

"Where do I find you?" Villanova asked.

"Noon, tomorrow. At The Ares."

"No ominous 'come alone?'" Villanova asked conversationally.

There was a burst of static on the other side. Then, "No. I'll have a lady friend. You may bring an escort."

Villanova didn't respond to the subtle insult. "Any other instructions?"

"No."

"Until noon. At The Ares." Villanova smiled wolfishly.

"At The Ares," the voice agreed and the call disconnected.

* * *

Faye found herself alone on the deck of the  _Bebop_ for a smoke. She still couldn't believe Leon called her a "lady friend." She rolled her eyes. The kid thought he was so suave, baiting the Dragon like this. And while the lure of the casino was appealing, Faye felt her stomach turn at the whole idea of going face to face with Red Dragon leaders. If the pier was any indication, they were playing for keeps and just as likely to cheat as she was. She blew out a huff of smoke and frowned, letting her eyes wander the warehouse they were hiding in. They automatically settled on the only thing in the warehouse other than the  _Bebop._ The stolen Dragon truck. Her curiosity piqued. Faye looked over her shoulder. No one else was around. She hopped off the Bebop and headed for the truck. She tried the door. It was unlocked. With one last glance over her shoulder, she opened the door and climbed inside.

She sat back, looking at the console with her arms crossed. Why did her friends have to be so obstinate? She'd thought that giving Leon Spike's gun would win her a little favor in the young cowboy's eyes, but apparently not. He still wanted to go through with his fool plan and here she was agreeing to help. She scowled. She didn't like the idea of trying to take on the Dragon. Sure, it brought up painful memories of Spike, but she didn't want the kid to go get himself killed either. If there was just some way to prove to him that that chasing the Dragon wasn't worth it.

A small blinking light on the truck's dash caught Faye's eye. The radio. She sat up straighter. That radio was a direct link to the Red Dragon. She shivered, the sudden weight of what she could do with this newfound connection weighing heavily on her. What if?

Unconsciously, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a poker chip. She'd found it under the dresser when she cleaned out Spike's room and she'd taken to carrying it around with her. It's faded faces and scuffed edges attested to the many times Spike must've handled it - probably flicking it through the air. Watching it spin and jitter to a stop. It had a crown side and a blank side, although the crown was partially rubbed off. After finding it, Faye had remembered catching Spike with a poker chip once or twice during his time on the  _Bebop_. He always seemed to stare at it, spinning in circles, end over end, like it would answer all his questions. But he'd put it away with that boyish grin any time she saw him with it, and dismissed it when she'd asked about it.

Faye flipped the little plastic chip between her fingers. Crown side? Or blank? What had the two sides meant to Spike?

She watched the radio light blip in time with the tumbling chip. Across her knuckles, end over end, back and forth.

What if she contacted the Dragon? Her stomach somersaulted at the idea. But if she called the Dragon and warned them of this harebrained scheme, then maybe Jet and Leon would finally get the idea that this plan was too dangerous to follow through with. If she gave the Dragon a hint so that they were prepared for the situation, maybe she could call off the entire mission and convince Jet and Leon to go back to hunting normal bountyheads. After all, Spike hid from the Dragon for years. Couldn't Leon do the same?

The poker chip tumbled faster through her fingers. Crown. Blank. Crown. Blank.

She bit her lip. If anyone found out about what she was about to do, they'd be furious. They'd think she betrayed the crew. But no one needed to know, right? Just a quick radio call to the Dragon, and all her problems were solved. Jet and Leon might be crazy, but she was sure they'd back out if they saw how far in over their heads they were.

She let the poker chip fall. It clattered onto the console and spun on its edge, wavering for a few moments before tipping over and lying still. Crown side up. Victory, right?

Faye took a deep breath and pressed the com button.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make sure I give credit where credit is due. The poker chip scene is inspired by Shadowcrest Nightingale's Cowboy Bebop stories, Dragons of the Darkwave Pt 1 and Pt 2 (found on AO3 and Fanfiction). In Shadowcrest's stories, Spike often plays with a poker chip when making decisions and I thought it a nice tie-in to have something similar happen here...and a nice memento of Spike for Faye to hold on to. In Shadow's stories, when Spike flips the chip, he goes with his idea if the blank side comes up, and Vicious' idea if the crown side comes up. Here Faye believes that she's given a sign of success and victory with the crown side...
> 
> And, as Shadowcrest reminded me, the original poker chip Spike has in Dragons gets destroyed, but I'm imagining he kept the habit later in life and carried a new chip on the Bebop (perhaps as a reminder or warning of the past). This would be the chip Faye has here.


	17. Session Seventeen

Captain Ary Servas crossed her arms and frowned at the security display. Sometimes Villanova's plans were too big for her own good. Not that Servas was complaining. As Villanova's head of security, she never complained. Even when she thought that the Syndicate was overreaching itself. No, she just sat in her command center and dispersed guards and troops and lackeys like she knew what she was doing and snapped at anyone who asked too many questions.

But today was taxing even her patience. First Andross' truck and its payload of Dragon's Eye didn't arrive. They'd all been hoping that the radio silence on his end had just been a glitch and he'd come grinning into the Tower like he always did. But no such luck. Second, a mysterious caller announced that he had Andross, and more importantly, the Dragon's Eye, captive. Which meant Servas now added "retrieving or finding a replacement for the Dragon's Eye in less than six days" to her to-do list. Third, she was still readying the Tower to host not one but two rival Syndicates for Villanova's take-back-control-of-the-Syndicates event. In a brazen show of ambition, Villanova had prematurely invited the White Tiger and Blue Snake Syndicates to share the spoils of the Red Dragon and enjoy a spectacle they'd never forget on the fifteenth anniversary of the Red Dragon's fall at Spike Spiegel's hand. The spectacle? Killing Spike himself.

Servas snorted. It was all an illusion. An illusion based on rumor and hearsay and legend. If this Spiegel fellow didn't already have a reputation among the Syndicates for mysteriously reappearing after being presumed dead, this event wouldn't exist in the first place. Servas was sure the other Syndicates were coming to rip the Dragon's heart out rather than for any interest in Spiegel. On the other hand, if what Villanova planned actually worked, then the Red Dragon would rise to a spot of dominance and prestige rivaling that of Yenrai's days. Or, at least, that's what Servas had been told. All she knew for sure was that this was a ridiculous breach of security and she was in charge of somehow making this event "safe."

And that she'd been told not to disturb Villanova anymore today, but she had a second call coming from Andross' radio no less, from a woman who claimed to be a friend, warning the Dragon of an ambush.

"And who did you say you were again?" Servas asked.

"Valentine," the woman answered. "And I've got some very important information for Miriatha."

Only very close associates of Villanova ever called her by her first name. But Servas had never heard of one named Valentine. "What sort of information?" Servas asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"It's regarding Andross and the Dragon's Eye. I need to warn the Dragon. But I need to talk to Miriatha. It's important."

"Ms. Villanova is not to be disturbed today. You can give me your warning," Servas said. After all, if it had to do with Andross and the Dragon's Eye, she needed this information just as much as Villanova.

"No. I can't speak to anyone else. And I don't have much time. If you don't put Miriatha on now, you'll regret it. She'll want to hear this."

Servas sighed. If she put Villanova on now, she'd regret this. And yet...something about the woman's desperate tone led Servas to believe she might just be telling the truth. She looked over at the call button for Villanova's office. This wouldn't be the first time she'd connected someone to Villanova without her permission and she wasn't dead yet, so one more time couldn't hurt. "Fine. I'll connect you. But you've only got five minutes, alright?"

"Alright," the woman agreed.

Servas pressed the button for Villanova's office.

* * *

"You think it's a trap?" Draugh asked.

"It could be," Villanova shrugged.

"And you're still going?"

"Of course I am. That was him."

"Spiegel's son?"

"Who else?" Villanova smiled. "This is our chance. He just walked himself into it."

"How can you be sure that was him?"

"Do you know anyone else with enough guts to challenge the Dragon? Damn, if the boy isn't Spiegel reincarnated," Villanova muttered. She looked up at Draugh with a gleam in her eye, rubbing her hands together. "And it's  _before_  our deadline."

Draugh scowled. "Don't you think - "

Villanova's phone beeped again. She jabbed the button.

"What now?" she demanded.

"There's a woman calling, ma'am."

"Captain, I told you not to - "

"She's calling from Andross' radio," Servas interrupted. "Her name's Valentine."

Villanova shared a glance with Draugh.

" _Bebop_ ," he mouthed.

"Put her through," Villanova said.

There was a slight click and then a woman's voice, speaking rapidly, as if she were trying to get through something unpleasant. "I want to make a deal."

"What have you got to offer?" Villanova asked.

There was a long pause. "Your Dragon's Eye and Andross."

"What do you want in return?"

"The lives of my friends."

Villanova smiled. "I think we can work something out."


	18. Session Eighteen

Leon adjusted the tie around his neck and stared at himself in the mirror in Spike’s room. His father’s old blue leisure suit fit well, no matter how reluctantly Faye handed it over. Leon liked the sophisticated air it gave his lanky figure. He hooked a finger under the tie and loosened it by a few inches. Sophisticated or not, he wasn’t about to walk around choking for the sake of fashion. He gave his appearance another once-over. Did Spike look like this the day he went to fight the Dragon? How were you supposed to dress to capture a Syndicate anyway? Leon gave his reflection his most rakish grin, then he pulled out the Jericho and pointed it at the mirror, closing one eye and giving the mirror his most intimidating scowl. He laid the Jericho on top of the dresser and scrutinized his reflection one last time. He winked at himself and laughed. Then he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up more than usual.

“There’s just no getting away from you, is there...dad?” he said softly. 

The reflection didn’t answer. 

“I wish I met you. The stories I’ve heard -- ” Leon chuckled but there was something harsh in it. “There’s no way I can fill your shoes.”  

“Maybe you should stop trying.” 

Leon jumped and whirled toward the door, hand going for the Jericho. But it was just Ed, grinning in the doorway. 

“Ed!” he put his hands down at his sides. “Don’t scare me like that! Have you ever heard of knocking?” 

Ed nodded and walked into the room. “You don’t catch people in the middle of things when you knock,” she said, tapping the side of her nose knowingly.

“What if I was getting dressed?” Leon asked. 

“You weren’t,” Ed said, waving a hand dismissively. 

“Then what were you hoping to catch me in the middle of?” Leon asked, tugging at his tie again. 

“Being Leo.” 

“What?” 

“Being Leo.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means what it means,” Ed sang. 

Leon rolled his eyes. “Ok, Ed. Do you even have everything ready for this afternoon?” 

“Of course.” Ed whistled and Ein came scrambling into the room a moment later, Tomato strapped to his back. 

“You’re taking Ein?” 

“Why not?” Ed asked, bending down to give Ein a scratch behind the ears. Ein’s tongue lolled happily. 

“I mean, won’t Jet tell you not to?” 

“Probably,” Ed grinned. “But Ed could just take him anyway.”

“How do you do it, Ed?” Leon asked. 

“Do what?” she looked up at him, amber eyes unblinking. 

“Just be...you.” 

“Oh that,” Ed laughed. “That’s easy. Ed is Ed, no matter what other people say or think.”

“Easy for you to say. No one expects you to be anybody but Ed.” 

“That’s because Ed is always Ed. There’s nobody else for anybody to expect Ed to be.” 

“That’s because your parents weren’t freaking legends.” 

Ed shrugged. “No. My dad is crazy. But people don’t expect Ed to be crazy just because her dad is.” 

Leon stopped for a moment and scratched his head. “But Ed. You are crazy.” 

“Yup!” She nodded enthusiastically.

“So, aren’t you just like your dad?” 

Ed shook her head so hard her goggles swung around her neck. “He’s on Earth chasing rocks, and Ed’s in space fishing with her best friends. We might both be crazy, but we’re not the same person.”

“Yeah, well, I doubt you look just like your dad either.” 

“That’s true,” Ed said thoughtfully. “But just because you look like Spike person doesn’t mean you have to be Spike person. It just means at least you know what he looked like.” 

“You make it sound so simple.” 

“That’s because it is.” 

Leon frowned at her. 

“For the record, Ed thinks Spike person would be proud of you.” Ed winked. “So does Ein.” 

Leon felt his defenses drop.  “You really think so?” 

“We know so.”

“Thanks, Ed.” Leon sighed. “I just hope I can live up to his expectations.” 

“Leo can’t live up to Spike person’s expectations when he didn’t have any for you. Leo should live up to Leo’s expectations.” Ed spun on her heel and skipped out of the room. Ein followed, barking. 

Leon looked at his reflection again. This time, he thought he saw something underneath Spike’s features--a thin scar from the pier on his left cheek, a higher tilt to his smile, a different slant to his eyes. Maybe Ed was right. Maybe he just needed to set his own expectations and live up to them. He slid the Jericho under his jacket and followed Ed out of the room. 

He found Jet in the living room adding the finishing touches to his casino security uniform. “You look official.” Leon said. 

Jet turned around. His eyes widened for a moment. “Hell, kid. You look...sharp.” Leon was pretty sure Jet just stopped himself from saying “like Spike.” 

Leon sketched a bow. “I try.” He looked up with a smirk.

Jet clipped a plastic ID (complete with fake name) to his belt, something Ed fabricated last night to Ares standards. 

“You think this is gonna work, Jet?” Leon asked. 

“You getting nervous, kid?”

Leon rubbed his neck. “Maybe.” 

Jet shrugged. “Well, this is one of the fastest jobs I’ve ever put together. Maybe when you tell your bounty you’re coming for them at noon tomorrow, you should make sure you’ve got everything ready for that, huh?”

Leon felt heat rush to his face. “About that…”

Jet clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Leon,” he said. “I pulled off more half-assed plans with Spike than you can shake a stick at. We’ll be fine. Really.” 

“Yeah. Right.” Leon nodded like he was convincing himself. “Now I just need to find my lady friend.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to look far,” Faye’s voice floated from the hall.

Leon turned in surprise to find Faye draped against the doorframe. She wore a floor-length, purple sheath dress, slit up to her thigh on the left side. The dress was sleeveless and covered in subtle sequins that glittered when Faye turned to the light. She wore long black gloves up to her elbows and had a dark fur stole draped over her shoulders. Her bright red heels matched the flower in her pinned-up hair and a pair of delicate shades covered her eyes. 

Leon found himself speechless for a second. 

Faye looked over at him and froze. With her eyes hidden, Leon couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her ruby-red lips remained in their customary pout, but Leon felt his stomach drop. He knew what Faye was seeing. He shouldn’t have put on Spike’s old suit. Her lips turned down and Leon took a breath, ready to defend himself. Faye slid the sunglasses down her nose, staring at him with those startling green eyes. And then the lips parted and she smiled, showing a flash of white teeth. 

“Well, at least one of us cleans up nice, Mr. Spiegel.”  


	19. Session Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters spend their time bouncing between multiple perspectives per chapter, because I felt like this was the best way to describe everything that's about to happen. Let me know if it's working! Enjoy :)

The Ares was a large casino smack-dab in the middle of Tharsis. No one could remember a time when it wasn't standing and everyone agreed on its neutrality. It was one of the few casinos that wasn't Syndicate-run and one of the few casinos the Syndicates left alone. No one seemed to know for sure who owned it and how they gained such autonomy, but everyone respected The Ares as a civil location and a no-weapon zone. Or at least, they had fifteen years ago. Before the Red Dragon re-formed under a more militant leader than Yenrai. Jet hadn't heard anything to the contrary, but his contacts on Tharsis were old and limited and some of their information was unreliable. He'd just have to hope they were right about this one.

Jet watched from their rented transport as Leon and Faye crossed the street to the marble steps of the casino. He had to do a double take when Leon gave Faye his arm and she draped hers through it. From the back, Leon looked just like Spike and Jet felt like someone threw him back fifteen years as Leon and Faye ascended the steps and disappeared inside the double front doors. What if Spike hadn't gone to fight the Dragon? Would this be a scene he'd be watching? Jet shook his head and glanced back at Ed in the rearview mirror. She was putting the finishing touches on Tomato, making it look more like a company computer.

"Well, Ed, you ready for this?" Jet asked.

Ed gave him a devilish grin from behind her goggles. "Let's kick Dragon butt," she said.

The inside of The Ares was sleek and expensive. Crystal wall lights gave the entryway a warm glow. The floor was tiled in alternating squares of black and white marble and the walls were paneled in dark mahogany. Everything was polished to a high shine and staff in crimson coats were evenly spaced throughout the entryway to give directions and guide customers to the gaming floor. Leon and Faye were greeted by a smiling staff member who gave them a deep bow and indicated they should follow him. He led them through a pair of grand, gold doors to a circular gaming hall decorated in muted shades of red and black, lit by crystal chandeliers hanging high overhead. The game floor was inset by three stairs and and a ring of private booths overlooked it three-quarters of the way around. The fourth quarter of the outer ring was taken up by a curved bar with mirrors across its front, reflecting the light of the crystal chandeliers. The bar opened toward the private booths on one end, and was closed off on the other by a wall. Two bartenders worked the bar and a few dozen other staff members worked the game tables and waited on patrons. Men and women of obvious affluence cast bets and oozed money on the game floor.

"Can I get you all anything?" the staff member asked.

"A private booth, please," Leon said. "Something with a good view of the door. We're expecting company within the hour."

"Certainly, sir. Right this way." The staff member led Faye and Leon to a table at the end of the bar with a good view of the door. A potted plant at the edge of the booth kept one of the bench seats mostly hidden from view unless it's occupant stood at the end of the table. Leon scrutinized the staff member for a moment. This was an awfully convenient booth for their purposes and Leon hadn't even mentioned anything about wishing to remain out of sight. But there was nothing amiss with the man that he could tell. Perhaps he just seated enough customers "expecting company" that he had a vague idea of what was really going on.

"Will this be alright for you?" the staff member asked.

"This is perfect." Faye purred, taking off her sunglasses and giving the man a charming smile. "Now how about a drink for the lady?"

* * *

Jet gave Leon and Faye a fifteen minute head-start before he and Ed walked up to the service door at the back of The Ares. They didn't want to all arrive at the same time, just in case someone was watching them.

"Alright, Ed. Time to find out if your magic worked."

Jet wore a security outfit in black and grey with  _The Ares_  stitched across his front pocket. His ID card identified him as Barrett Jones, and, according to Ed, verified with any computer systems he accessed that he'd been working at The Ares for about a week. Enough time to have access to most places in the building, but not enough time to be recognized by everyone. Ed wore a blue jumpsuit and matching cap with a false name stitched on the front pocket and she had an ID card from a Tharsis IT business. Her goggles swung from around her neck again. She carried Tomato in an official-looking, heavy black case that swung awkwardly against her knees as she walked. In the end, Jet convinced Ed that a Corgi carrying her computer would blow her disguise. She agreed to leave Ein behind with the caveat that he could guard the  _Bebop._

Ed had been up all night procuring the codes and creating false IDs. Jet and Leon had gone out hunting appropriate maintenance outfits and stitching logos and names on pockets. As it turned out, the kid wasn't half bad with a needle, but Ed's fake name - Wong Hau - did curve up to the right a little. Jet swiped a speck of dust from his black sleeve and pulled out his ID card.

He took a deep breath and swiped his card on the security readout next to the door. After a moment of holding his breath, the light blinked green and the door clicked open.

"You've just been hacked by Radical Edward," Ed said, making a gun out of her fingers and pretending to shoot the security readout.

"Excellent job as always, Ed," Jet said.

The two stepped inside. Jet paused. "Now to find the security room."

"Second floor, west wing, third door on your right," Ed sang.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one escorting you?" he sighed.

Ed just grinned.

She and Jet had spent hours memorizing and studying maps of the casino layout last night as well. Jet rubbed a hand over his eyes. If Leon had one thing against him, it was his lack of preparation for this plan. He'd inadvertently catapulted the  _Bebop_ crew into one of their most frenzied planning sessions in several years. None of them had gotten more than a few hours of sleep last night. Jet found the plans were a jumble in his mind this morning.  _I'm getting too old for this,_ he thought.

"Stairs?" He asked Ed.

"Escort, escort," Ed said, shaking her head. "Escorts don't need directions."

"They do if they want to look like they know where they're going," Jet admitted.

"Down the hall, on the left," she supplied, sticking out her left hand and foot to point.

"Thanks, Ed."

Ed saluted him. "No problem, sir!"

Jet had to fight back a smile. "Remember, you're company, Ed. You're supposed to be serious."

Ed thrust out her lower lip in a pout.

"You're right. That's asking too much, isn't it?" Jet said.

Ed nodded, giving him puppy dog eyes.

"Alright, c'mon." Jet motioned for Ed to follow and they walked down the hall to the stairs. They met no one on their way to the staircase and Jet was beginning to think they succeeded in their little scheme after all. He took the staircase at a leisurely pace, like he had all the time in the world. At the top of the stairs, they passed a waitress heading down. She barely gave the two a second glance before sliding past them and skittering down the stairs in a hurry. Ed gave Jet a thumbs up as the clicking of the waitresses' heels faded. Jet stepped out into the hallway and turned right, heading toward the third door down. A man in security black and grey left the room and turned toward them.

He stopped short.

Jet stopped too, not wanting to appear rude.

"Good morning, sir," he said, noting the man's name tag.  _Head of Security_ was printed in black under his name, Richard Almance.

"Good morning," Almance said slowly. "Who are you? I don't believe we've met."

"Jones, sir," Jet said. "I'm a new recruit. And this is Ms. Wong Hau," he gestured at Ed, "from Tharsis IT and Systems Maintenance. I was just taking her to the security room for routine check-up." Ed gave him a friendly wave.

"New recruit, huh?" Almance asked. "You look like you might be pretty good at the job. You got experience in the field, Jones?"

"Yes, actually, I do," Jet said.  _If only you knew,_ he thought. "I did a stint with ISSP back in the day, but I got too old to chase people. I figured this would give me something to do in retirement," Jet chuckled.

"ISSP, huh?" Almance sounded impressed. " Good to have you on the team, Jones." He stuck out a hand.

Jet shook. "Glad to be here, sir."

"Well, on with business, eh? Wouldn't want to hold you up. Just tell Sam to let you have the security room for now. I know how these IT types are, wanting to work without too many security goons in the way. I take it you can handle the booth alone for a few hours?"

"Of course," Jet said, hiding his smile. This was turning out better than he thought.

"Good. I look forward to working with you." And with that, Alamance threw them a casual salute and continued down the hall.

Ed looked up from under her cap. "Easy peasy, pudding and pie," she said.

"Let's just hope Sam agrees," Jet muttered.

* * *

"Quit fidgeting. It makes you look nervous," Faye kicked Leon under the table as she reached up and adjusted her fur stole for the tenth time. Leon bit his tongue to stop an exclamation of pain and gave Faye his surliest glare. The two had been sitting in their private booth for about half an hour, drinks chilling in front of them. Faye barely touched hers; Leon was on his second. She kept alternating between gazing longingly at the gaming tables and anxiously at the door. He kept playing with his lighter, flicking the little flame to life only to let it die out without lighting the cigarette clenched between his teeth.

"Same to you," Leon growled, finding new purpose in his lighter. He lit his cigarette and inhaled. He closed the lighter, but didn't put it back in his pocket, opting to flip it between his fingers instead.

"I'm not nervous," Faye insisted, glancing at the door again.

"I am," Leon said, smoke seeping between his words.

"What?" Faye looked at him wide-eyed. "This was your idea from the get-go and now you're telling me you've got cold feet?"

"I don't have cold feet. I said I was nervous." Leon unconsciously rubbed at his right shoulder. "There's a difference."

"There is?"

"Yeah. Cold feet turns and runs. Nervous fights like hell."

"Oh good," Faye muttered.

"Hey, you agreed to this plan too, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Faye said, waving a hand at him.

Leon pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time. 11:30 a.m. "Let's just hope Jet and Ed are in position now." He put his phone away.

"They will be." Faye said. As would the Dragon, if her conversation with Miriatha was any indication. She adjusted her stole again and glanced up at the security booth over the bar. She saw figures moving behind the glass, but the dark tint prevented her from identifying them. She wouldn't admit it out loud to Leon of course, but she was nervous as well - for entirely different reasons.

"You look a little pale, Faye," Leon said. "Everything ok?"

"Of course." Faye gave him a smile and took a sip of her drink. Leon watched her for a minute then let his gaze roam over the gambling hall again. He resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder at the security booth. He'd just have to trust that Jet and Ed were ready.

Just then Faye grabbed his hand and pushed it down to the table, flattening his lighter underneath. "They're here."

"They're early, dammit." Leon pulled his hand away and put his lighter back in his pocket before looking at the entryway. Framed between the large, gold doors, a graceful Villanova was draped over Draugh's arm. Leon was surprised to see Villanova in a dress much like Faye's. He'd been expecting the military vigilante-turned-Dragon-leader to come dressed like her bounty picture. The blood-red dress clung to Villanova's lithe figure before flowing outward at the knee to cascade over her feet in ruffled folds. Her short black hair was smoothed down and curved, falling to her cheekbone on one side of her face. Her lips were painted red and her throat flashed with a singular glint of red on gold. Draugh looked somber beside her in a tailored black suit with red accents. Aside from a scar or two across his face and hands, he had survived his encounter with Faye at the temple.

Leon turned back to Faye and licked his lips. "Here goes nothing."

Faye nodded once, the movement sharp.

Leon stood up and raised his glass in a toast towards Villanova and Draugh. Villanova noticed him immediately and pointed him out to Draugh. The two made their way across the floor to Faye and Leon's table. Leon dropped into a bow as they arrived.

"So it is you. I was right," Villanova said. Her voice betrayed nothing, but her eyes were cold. Draugh openly scowled at him.

"I hope I'm everything you were expecting," Leon gave her a tight smile through his cigarette smoke.

"You'll do nicely," Villanova purred. "And quite the gentleman too, I see." She gave Faye a glance. The two women sized each other up. Leon could all but see animosity flicker between them like lightning.

"Won't you take a seat?" Leon gestured to the bench he just vacated.

"Of course," Villanova smiled. Draugh waited for her to arrange herself in the seat, then sat down beside her. Leon slid into the seat beside Faye. At least this way if they had to run for it, he and Faye were on the same side of the table. He took a sip of his drink and set it down.

"A drink for the Dragon perhaps?" Leon asked.

"I'd like that, yes," Villanova said, folding her arms on the table in front of her. Leon flagged a passing waiter and gestured at the drinks on the table, indicating one more. The waiter disappeared with a nod. "I hope you don't mind a bit of old-fashioned whiskey."

"Not at all. I'm an old-fashioned girl."

"We're not here to chat over a drink," Draugh interrupted. "Where are the drugs, boy?"

Leon bristled. "You'll find out when we're good and ready to tell you."

"Now, Draugh, that's no way to start civil conversation." Villanova admonished him like a mother with a small child. Draugh scowled.

"I didn't know the Dragon could be civil," Faye needled. "I thought you all prefered gunshots to conversation."

"I thought that's why we were meeting here," Villanova gestured to the casino around them. "Over, say, a warehouse somewhere. So that there won't be gunshots."

Leon narrowed his eyes. Faye looked even paler in the casino's dim lighting. Villanova smiled.

Just then the waiter returned with Villanova's drink. He set it on the table and gave them a crisp bow before walking away.

Villanova took the drink with a smile and raised it in toast to Leon. She took a sip and set it on the table in front of her. "Now, all pleasantries aside, I must admit I do want my property back. What are you proposing?"

"I don't suppose disbanding the Syndicate would be on the table, would it?" Faye asked slyly.

Villanova laughed. "Surely, you're joking. I can't disband my Syndicate any more than you can shirk your debts, Ms. Valentine."

Faye looked like she'd been slapped in the face. "What?"

"Oh, come now, dear, surely you didn't think I walked myself in here blind, did you? After seeing Leon with Jet Black at the Temple, Draugh and I did our research. I'm surprised they let you get a Cowboy's license, Ms. Valentine."

Leon and Faye had no response. Leon felt his heart slip into his stomach. If Villanova knew this much about Faye, what else did she know about the crew of the  _Bebop_? Was it enough to guess their plans? Leon felt a cold finger of doubt slide up his spine. It was all he could do to keep himself from looking up at the security booth.

"Have I unsettled you?" Villanova purred.

"No." Leon winced at the belligerent tone in his voice.

"Then what's the offer?" Villanova asked.

"Three hundred million." Leon didn't skip a beat.

The corner of Draugh's mouth twitched. Even Villanova raised an eyebrow.

"Three hundred million?" Villanova repeated slowly, like she was testing the word on her tongue.

"And that doesn't include the 'bonus' you offered me for keeping Andross alive."

"Aren't you just the enterprising young businessman?" Villanova asked.

"ISSP is offering two hundred million." Leon shrugged, running a finger along the rim of his glass. "I gotta have some incentive not to just turn you in. The way I see it, you want your stuff and your freedom, I want woolongs, we do business, everybody's happy." Leon spread his hands.

"That's bull and you know it," Draugh growled.

"You're right. I forgot, you're never happy."

"Why you little - " Draugh pulled back a hand as if to hit Leon.

"Not here," Villanova laid a hand on Draugh's leg. "Remember, we're here to be  _civilised_."

Leon wondered just how civilised they planned to be.

"Are you up to any negotiations on the matter?" Villanova asked.

"You want to offer more than three hundred million?" Faye asked, putting on her innocent face. "Why didn't you say so?"

Villanova scowled.

"Think of it this way," Leon said. "It's an assurance fee so that your stuff comes back undamaged."

"You wouldn't kill Andross," Draugh said. "You don't have it in you."

Leon shrugged one shoulder. He took a slow draw on his cigarette. "You don't know what I have in me."

"Whiskey and nicotine, for starters," Villanova said. "And if you're anything like your father, you've got something up your sleeve as well. Like that security guard and maintenance technician I took the liberty of  _detaining_  in the security booth." Leon felt the color drain from his face as Villanova continued. "I can only assume that your maintenance tech is that little Radical Edward. He's the only member of your party who doesn't have a digital footprint."

"That's because Ed's too good to leave footprints," Faye said angrily.

"Yes, he seems to be the only competent member of your crew. Perhaps he'll come up with a back-up plan for you. Although I doubt even his hacking skills are enough to get you out of this predicament."

"You have no idea what Ed can do," Leon said.

Villanova shrugged. "I can guess. But I doubt that turning off the lights will help you much. I don't suppose that there's much else you can do, stuck up there in the security booth."

Leon opened his mouth to reply, only to find he didn't have the words. He didn't have a snarky comeback or a smooth lie for this one. He felt like Villanova had flayed him open and laid him bare. It was all he could do to keep it from showing on his face.

"Speechless, Spiegel?" Villanova asked. "Perhaps you're not as much like your father as I thought. No matter," she waved a dismissive hand.

Leon scowled. He felt the heat rise to his face. Even his enemy expected him to be Spike.

Villanova continued. "Since I expected treachery on your part, I've come with a bit of an ace up  _my_  sleeve too, shall we say. I spent all night...bribing...the casino owners to let me plant a select few of my men as casino staff. When Draugh gives the signal, this casino turns into a pit of Dragons. You've got two options, Leon." Villanova sipped her drink again. "Give yourself up peacefully and come with me. Or, fight it out with the Dragon."

Leon froze. He scanned the casino making a quick headcount of the room. How many of the patrons and staff were actually Dragon? Or was Villanova bluffing? Either way, he cursed himself for not coming in armed. If Villanova really had locked Ed and Jet in the security booth like she said, then they couldn't get any weapons to Faye and Leon, like they planned. He counted at least five or six men and women with an undue amount of attention on their booth and decided they were probably Dragon. Which meant at least eight against two on the floor, eight against four if Villanova was lying about Jet and Ed. This felt too much like the pier. Leon took a deep breath.

"So, Mr. Spiegel. What's it going to be?" Villanova laced her fingers in front of her.

"I think…" Leon began slowly, gripping the edge of the table, "it's going to be eat and run!" He flipped the table over on Villanova and Draugh, spilling drinks and glasses on the Syndicate members. "Time to go, Faye!" he grabbed Faye's hand and pulled her out of the booth. The room exploded into chaos.


	20. Session Twenty

As it turned out, Jet didn't have to worry about Sam. The kid was bored, chin propped in his hand as he watched about a dozen monitors flick between images of the gaming floor and the casino hallways. When Jet offered him an unexpected break so that Ed could do maintenance, the security guard could barely contain his excitement. He retained enough presence of mind to ask if Jet was sure before practically bolting out the door on Jet's assurance that he could handle the booth alone.

Jet checked his watch. 11:30 a.m. That should give Ed just enough time to set up before the Dragon arrived. Ed put her clunky case on a table in the booth and opened it to reveal Tomato nestled inside. She also pulled Leon's Jericho and Faye's Glock out of the case. Jet put them in the cargo pockets of his security pants.

She pulled several wires from the case and began hooking Tomato to different ports on the security panel. Jet walked up to the window and located Faye and Leon sitting in a booth at the end of the bar. Or, at least, he located Faye. He assumed Leon was sitting behind the leafy plant obscuring the second seat at the booth. He did a quick check of the gaming floor and security cameras. Nothing out of the ordinary. No goons with machine guns, nobody with a red dragon tattooed on their arm, nobody in Syndicate black and gold. Sometimes Jet wished the bad guys all wore signs. It would make his job so much easier. He glanced back down at the floor to see a waiter deliver another drink to Faye and Leon's table. He saw Leon reach out from behind the plant and take it. Jet hoped the kid had enough presence of mind to keep his head. He realized he hadn't seen Leon drink before.

"Well, Ed, looks like we got here in plenty of time," he said.

"Yup!" Ed agreed, pulling another tangle of wires out of her suitcase. "Just give me five more-"

"Wait!" Jet interrupted her. He leaned over the security console to get a better look at the gaming floor. A woman in a striking red dress appeared in the door to the casino holding the arm of a stern older man in a black tuxedo. "Damn!" Jet exclaimed.

"What?" Ed came to peer over his shoulder. "What is it? Ed wants to see."

"Villanova," Jet pointed.

"Ack!" Ed yelped. "Ed's not ready!" she dove back into her tangle of wires at double speed. Jet wasn't sure how she knew what wire she was plugging into what port anymore.

"It's ok, Ed," Jet said. His voice sounded calmer than he felt. "You've got time," he said, hoping it was true.

"Two minutes," Ed said through gritted teeth.

Jet watched as Villanova and her escort - who was indeed Draugh - walked up to Leon and Faye's table. Leon stood at the end of the table and gave them a bow as they approached. At least he wasn't drunk.

About a minute later, Ed sat cross-legged in a spider's web of wires, already typing madly on Tomato. "Ed's ready!" she declared triumphantly.

"Good," Jet said. "How long will it take you to hack the system?"

"Not long." Ed stuck her tongue out in concentration.

Jet looked back down at the table. He heard various beeping noises behind him as Ed connected to the different parts of the security system. Leon and Faye were now sitting on the same side of the table, talking to Villanova and Draugh. Even from this distance, Jet could see Faye's obvious discomfort. The longer the conversation lasted, the more he watched Leon squirm. Both of them shot furtive glances at the security booth and Leon began tracing a finger across the top of his glass, the gesture sharp and repetitive.

"Ed…" Jet checked his Walther in its holster and edged toward the door. He put a hand out and pushed against the door. It didn't move.

"Almost, almost!" Ed yelped. "Ed's got power, and TV, and the loud voice maker…"

"How about you get the door, Ed?" Jet interrupted, pushing on the door again.

Ed looked up at him, puzzled. "The door?"

"Yeah. It's time this guard made his rounds, but I need you to open the door."

Ed paled. "Ed didn't lock the door." She shook her head back and forth slowly.

"What?" Jet said, looking back over his shoulder at her.

"Ed didn't lock the door."

Jet turned back to the door. There was a small sliding panel at about eye level. Jet slid it open and peered out to meet the smirking face of Almance leaned casually on the wall across the hallway. The "head of security" waved and laughed.

Jet swore under his breath and slammed the panel shut. "They've locked us in," he said. He ran back over to the window. He looked down just in time to see Leon grab the table and upend it on Villanova and Draugh. "Ed, you gotta get us out of here!"

* * *

Leon stopped short as he almost collided head-on with a waiter. The waiter's tray crashed to the floor, spilling glass, ice, and drinks on Leon's shoes. After a second of surprise, the waiter reached behind him. Leon snagged an unbroken glass on the toe of his shoe and flung it up into his left hand. He smashed the waiter in the face with it just as the man pulled a gun from his waistband. The man howled and Leon grabbed the gun, discharging it into the floor as he twisted it out of his grip.

"Head's up!" he shouted and tossed the gun over his shoulder to Faye.

She caught it, whirled, and shot another Syndicate member sneaking up behind them as Leon punched the waiter in the jaw. Both Syndicate men went down for the count.

Leon caught sight of two more goons pulling guns from their suit jackets at a nearby gaming table. Patrons screamed and ran at the sight of the guns. The running civilians caused a welcome distraction. Leon grabbed Faye again. Faye's second shot went wide as Leon whisked her across the room. Two bullets thudded into the floor behind them like an afterthought.

"Stop jerking me around!" Faye yelled, planting her feet and shooting another Syndicate man in the shoulder. He dropped his gun with a howl.

"Don't thank me for saving your life then!" Leon shouted as he pushed her behind the bar. Bullets shattered the mirrors on the front of the bar, but the wood behind it stopped them short. For now. Glasses popped and shattered overhead, sending shards of glass raining down on Faye and Leon. Leon covered his head as he crouched, careful not to touch the floor with his bare hands.

"Are you willing to give up this crazy plan now?!" Faye hissed as more glass rained down on their shoulders. She jumped up for a second and squeezed off two more shots. Leon heard a man yell and figured at least one shot landed.

He looked over at Faye as she ducked back beneath the counter. She had glittering shards of glass in her hair, matching the glint of the sequins on her dress. He set his jaw. "Giving up now means surrendering to the Dragon. I don't think that's a good idea. Tactical retreat, on the other hand, is totally fine."

"Oh good, you're not completely insane. But you could have gotten me a gun with more bullets," she growled, cracking open the revolver Leon had tossed her to show him six empty chambers.

"You should have saved your shots," he hissed.

Faye's reply was lost as more glass shattered overhead and littered the floor.

"Idiots! Don't kill him!" An angry Villanova shouted. The gunfire slowed and stopped. Leon risked a glance over the top of the bar. Villanova stood on top of one of the gaming tables, her dress significantly shorter than before. The ruffles were ripped off and laying on the floor behind her, revealing a pair of heavy combat boots.

"Surrender, Spiegel." She smiled. "You're outnumbered."

"And if I don't?" Leon asked. He ducked back below the bar and looked around. He grabbed a bottle of rum that hadn't been smashed.

"Then we kill your friends and take you by force."

Beside him, Faye gasped. Leon ignored her as he grabbed a cleaning rag and scanned the walls. The two bartenders from earlier were nowhere to be seen, which meant they must have some way to get out unnoticed.

"And if I do surrender?" Leon asked, crawling carefully over broken glass to grab a book of matches from under the bar.

"Then your friends go free. Doesn't that seem fair to you?" Leon could hear the fanged smile in Villanova's voice.

"What are you doing?" Faye hissed at him, noticing the objects in his hands for the first time.

"Creating a distraction," he murmured, gesturing at the far end of the bar with the rum bottle.

Faye looked at the wall for a good ten seconds before her eyes went wide and she nodded. The wall at the end of the bar was actually a door for the bartenders to slip in and out unnoticed. When it was closed, it merged almost seamlessly with the bar, but now it was slightly ajar and the outline of the door could be seen faintly.

"Go," Leon mouthed. Faye nodded and began crawling toward the door.

"And what happens to me if I go with you, Villanova?" he said out loud, hoping to buy a few more seconds as he soaked the rag in rum.

"Trade secret," Villanova said. "Now, you've got three seconds to make a decision before I force you to."

Leon stuffed the rag into the mouth of the bottle and grabbed a match. He lit it and touched it to the rag. The rag caught and he stood up. "Then here's my answer, Villanova!" He threw the improvised molotov at the Dragon leader. And the lights went out.


	21. Session Twenty One

Jet clanged into the door with his metal shoulder. He bounced off with a jarring clatter, without even leaving a dent.

"It's made to stop bullets, Jet!" Ed yelped.

He turned around. "I know that," he said.

Ed looked pale under her shock of bright red hair, amber eyes wide as her fingers flew like lightning over her keyboard.

Jet realized she was scared. He stopped. He never seen Ed scared of anything. Even when danger stared her in the face. Ed always treated everything like some sort of grand adventure, but this time, she was terrified. And that was because she'd failed to be ready, Jet realized. Ed was always ready for everything, so she was never caught off guard. But Villanova got the drop on her - on all of them - by showing up early and breaking the rules.

Ed jumped as the sound of gunshots echoed from below but she didn't stop typing. Jet ran back over to the window and looked down to see Faye and Leon crouched behind the bar.

"They're ok, Ed," he said. "They've got cover."

"But they're supposed to have guns!" she wailed.

"Take your time. Better we get this right on the first go round than make a mistake."

Ed nodded.

The gunfire fell silent as Jet watched Villanova jump up on a gaming table. From behind him, he heard loud, disdainful buzzing sounds, like when Ed tried to hack into something but didn't have the password right. He turned around. Ed was typing passwords into Tomato faster than Jet could blink, each one returning an angrier buzzing sound and no unlocked door. Jet scanned the room. If they couldn't get out of the door, maybe they could...there! A ceiling vent leading to an air duct. Jet walked over to the vent and looked up. There was no way he was going to fit in the vent, but Ed would be able to clear it with ease.

"Ed," he said.

She didn't look up.

"Ed," he called louder.

She still didn't move.

"Ed!" he shouted.

"Nyah!" she yelped and looked up from Tomato.

"I've got a plan. But first, douse the lights in the game room, will you?"

* * *

For a moment, all that could be seen in the suddenly dark room was the flaming tail of Leon's molotov cocktail. Leon watched it for a second or two, transfixed, and then it hit something and burst into flame and Villanova shouted in pain and Leon snapped into action, running to the door behind the bar. Now that the lights were out, a faint glow outlined the door where light seeped from behind it. He barrelled into Faye just as she pulled the door open and they tumbled through, landing in a tangled heap of arms and legs. He heard shards of glass skitter across the floor as they fell, falling out of their clothes and hair.

"Watch where you're going, lunkhead!" Faye yelled, twisting and squirming beneath him.

"Sorry," Leon scrambled to his feet and gave Faye a hand up.

They heard loud shouts and yells from the gaming floor as the Dragons dealt with the effects of the molotov. Leon pulled the door shut and looked around. They were in a service corridor between the walls, lit with bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The door on this side was visible. There was no way to lock it and it opened outward, so they couldn't block it. He knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the Dragon gathered themselves and came through the door.

"Damn, we gotta keep moving," he grabbed Faye's arm again.

She pulled away. "I can move myself, thanks."

Leon gave her a level look, then shrugged and took off down the hall. Faye followed. Despite her stilettos, she kept up with Leon's longer stride. They skidded to a stop at the end of the hall, taking a sharp left turn into the kitchens. The two bartenders were there, surrounded by other wait staff and cooks, all talking in a confused jumble about what was going on in the casino. One of the bartenders looked up and pointed at Leon and Faye.

"That's them! They're the ones who started it!"

Leon held up his hands placatingly. "Apologies, ladies and gentleman. Now, if you don't mind, we'll just get out of your hair, ok?" He stepped out into the kitchen and began to edge his way around the huddled group of cooks and waiters.

"Wait just a minute!" one of the cooks yelled. "You think you're gonna just get away with this after the mess you made? You've gotta pay for damages, you know!"

Faye smiled sweetly at the man. "You know, you really ought to ask the Red Dragon for the cost of damages on this one. They're the ones with the guns," she said.

"Red Dragon?" someone yelped.

"The very same," Faye nodded.

She and Leon continued walking past the group. Some of the waiters and cooks cowered at the mention of the Dragon. But the cook who demanded they pay for the damage wasn't having it.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" he took a step forward, brandishing a ladle threateningly. The faint sound of shouting drifted down the service corridor.

"Oh, you'll know just about...now," Leon said. The cook turned to look at the corridor just as three men barrelled into the kitchen, guns drawn.

The one in the lead locked eyes with Leon. "Get 'em, boys!" he yelled. The other two men spread out to the left and right. Leon and Faye burst into a run. They sprinted through the kitchen, forgotten by the staff. The kitchen staff burst into confusion, some running, some cowering, and generally getting in the way of the Dragon. One of the Dragon men fired his gun into the ceiling, shattering a light bulb and the kitchen descended further into chaos. Leon ran through the room, bent almost double, dodging behind tables and counters as bullets ricocheted off pots and pans. He saw a kitchen knife laying on a cutting board with some onions and scooped it up as he ran past. Although it was unwieldy, it was sharp, and he felt somewhat better having a weapon in his hand.

"Where are we going?" Faye asked behind him.

"I don't know," Leon called over his shoulder. He wished he'd looked more closely at the casino maps last night, but his plan hadn't involved needing to know where the back halls went. He burst out of the kitchen on the other side to find himself in a room full of tables and lockers. The staff break room, he guessed. He and Faye ran through without stopping. So far, it looked like the three Dragon men had been delayed by the staff, but Leon knew that wouldn't last much longer. He and Faye made it to the swinging double doors of the break room just as a bullet slammed into the wall beside Leon's head. Faye yelped and Leon ducked, shoving open the break room door. The three Dragon men began to weave their way through the tables and chairs.

"Stop where you are, Spiegel. We have you surrounded!"

Faye and Leon ducked through the door into yet another hallway. A spray of bullets slammed into the opposite wall. Faye yelped and tripped. Leon turned back to see her on the ground, blood dripping down her left leg. He ran back and put an arm under hers, levering her to her feet.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Faye panted. "It just grazed me. Let's go!"

Leon turned around and shoved the kitchen knife between the handles of the two doors, so it acted like a cross bar. It wouldn't hold for long, especially not against three men, but perhaps it would buy them some time. Faye pulled away from him, limping only a little and they ran down the hallway. Just before they turned the next corner, Leon heard footsteps running towards them. He stopped and put out an arm to stop Faye. She paused as Leon pressed himself to the wall and put a finger to his lips. The footsteps belonged to only one person and a small person at that. Leon made a motion to indicate that he would tackle them once they rounded the corner. Faye nodded and took up a ready stance, fists balled. The footsteps drew closer and just before they reached the end of the hall, Leon launched himself around the corner.

* * *

Jet balanced himself as Ed sat on his shoulders, reaching up to the vent overhead with a screwdriver in her hands. She hummed as she worked the vent loose, dropping screws onto the floor.

"Have you got it?" Jet asked, watching his feet to make sure he didn't tangle himself in any of Ed's wires.

"Almost," Ed said. She gave an excited squeal and the vent came crashing down, missing Jet's nose by inches. Jet kept his balance by sheer willpower.

"You might want to warn me next time!" he growled.

"Sorry!" Ed shifted so that she crouched on Jet's shoulders, then she grabbed the edge of the vent and pulled herself up into the ceiling. She slid into the air ducts, Faye's Glock and Leon's Jericho banging loudly against the metal tube as her pockets scuffed the edge.

"Careful!" Jet admonished.

Ed turned around to look back down at him and nodded vigorously. "Careful is Ed's middle name!" she chirped. Now that she had a plan again, she was back to her usual perky self. "Now remember, Jet has a job too!"

"I know, I'll be fine, Ed."

"Yup, yup!"

"Now hurry up!" Jet motioned at Ed to get going. Ed gave him a thumbs up, then put her goggles over her eyes and crawled deeper into the vent. Jet sat down in front of Tomato and searched the security monitors for any sign of Faye and Leon.

"They're in the kitchen, Ed," Jet's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie clipped to the belt-loop of Ed's jumpsuit. She and Jet had snitched a pair of the security radios before she went into the vents. Ed pressed the button on her walkie-talkie. "A-OK, sir!" she said.

She heard Jet sigh on the other end. If she remembered the layout of the casino correctly, the kitchen was on the first floor, behind the bar. She could reach it easy-peasy if she was on the floor, but she'd need to find a good spot to leave the vent without getting noticed. She crawled carefully through the casino duct system, stopping to look through each vent as she passed. She was well out of the security room now, but casino guards kept running through the halls below her. And since they knew Almance wasn't on their side, Ed figured she shouldn't let any security guards see her. She'd given Jet instructions on how to control the systems in the casino she had managed to hack, but even she wasn't sure what he could do with the intercom, the TVs, and the lights.

Finally, Ed found a vent that exited into a storage closet. She pushed on the vent cover. It jiggled a little, but didn't come loose. Ed turned herself around in the vent so that her feet faced the cover and lay down on her back. She gave the cover a few good kicks and it popped right off. It fell to the floor with a clang and Ed lay still in the duct for a count of 100. Nobody came to investigate the sound. Hopefully, that meant no one was close enough to hear it.

"Ed found a way out, Jet," she said into the walkie talkie as she slid out into the closet.

"Good. Leon and Faye just left the kitchen. If you hurry, it looks like you might catch them before the Dragon."

"Ed will be like lightning," she promised, crossing her heart with her finger even though Jet couldn't see it. "Edward will call again when she finds Leo and Faye Faye!" Ed saluted the air.

"Good luck, kid," Jet said. Ed left the walkie-talkie in the vent, so it couldn't make any noise and give her away.

Then she walked over to the door. She cracked it open and peered outside cautiously. The hallway on the other side was empty. She slipped out and closed the door softly behind her. Then she broke into a run. As she ran, she compared the layout of the building to the map in her head. She should be right over the kitchen now. If she remembered right, there was a staircase down the hall on the right that would dump her out near the employee break room, which was where Faye and Leon would exit the kitchen. Ed found the stairs and took them two at a time, her boots barely touching the floor. She turned left at the end of the stairs and ran down the hall.

Just before she rounded the corner, a shadow moved against the wall and she skidded to a stop. Someone threw themselves at her from the corner.

Ed yelped and tumbled to the floor, her arms and legs pinned to her sides. But the arms wrapped around her were familiar arms and she knew that shaggy mop of dark hair.

"Leo!"

"Ed?" Leon asked incredulously. He let her go, looking sheepish. "What are you doing here?"

"Ed!" Faye exclaimed, stepping out from the wall. "Good thing we ran into you instead of the Dragon. But I thought you were stuck in the security booth."

"Jet is," Ed nodded seriously. "But Ed is small and she wiggled like a little fishy all the way here." She slid her goggles onto her head and gave them a huge grin.

"Great," Leon said, picking himself up and offering his hand to the second girl he'd inadvertently tackled today. Ed took it and stood up.

"Did you bring our guns?" Leon asked.

Ed looked up at Leon and nodded. A gun went off at the other end of the hall.


	22. Session Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little shorter, but it just didn't feel right to tack it onto the end of the last one...also shout out and thanks to the readers! I kinda hate to say hope you enjoy since this chapter isn't exactly a fun one...but I hope you enjoy! And thanks for the comments and kudos ;)

Leon watched in horror as bright red blossomed on the front of Ed's jumpsuit near her stomach. As if from a great distance, he watched Ed's eyes go wide with pain and her knees give out. He watched himself reach out and catch her, sinking to the floor with her so she didn't hit her head. He watched Villanova smile at the other end of a smoking gun. Faye screamed and reality crashed back down on them.

"Ed!" Leon choked back a sob. He felt something warm against his shirt and looked down to see that he was covered in blood. It was on his hands, his shirt, his pants. Ed's eyes were squeezed shut, her breathing fast and shallow. "Edward."

She didn't answer. He heard a ripping sound and then Faye was kneeling beside him, pressing a strip of her dress to Ed's side. Faye's face was white as a sheet.

"What did I tell you, Spiegel? Fight back and your friends get hurt," Villanova said. She aimed her gun at Faye.

"No! Stop!" Leon shook with anger, Ed's red head cradled in the crook of his arm. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

"Because you're resisting. Didn't anyone tell you the Dragon plays rough, boy?" Villanova snapped her fingers and Draugh and another henchmen flanked her. They advanced. From behind them, Leon heard a crack and the sound of splintering wood as the knife gave way and the other three Dragon men burst through the break room doors. They rounded the corner, guns raised and stopped in surprise at the scene before them.

Villanova shifted her gun so it pointed, unwavering, at Faye's heart. Faye's hands shook as she pressed them to Ed's wounded side.

"Yeah," Leon said slowly. "My father."

"Your father died before you met him," Villanova sneered.

"At your hands," Leon accused.

"Well, not mine, personally," Villanova smiled. "But you're right." Her finger twitched on the trigger. "So, what's your decision, Spiegel? How many more have to die for you?"

Leon met Faye's gaze for a long moment.  _Trust me,_ he thought, willed her to understand. Slowly, he handed Ed to Faye, careful not to jostle her. Faye took her with fear in her eyes. Leon stood up.

"No one has to die. I'll go with you."

"I knew you'd see it my way," Villanova grinned, teeth flashing in the dim hallway. "Now, come quietly, and everything will be ok. You'll see." She held out her hand like she was reassuring a small, frightened child. A hand, Leon noticed, covered in a nasty burn. Leon took a hesitant step forward.

"So, do we shoot them now, boss?" one of the Dragon men asked.

"NO!" Leon stopped and whipped the Jericho from his waistband. He'd snagged it from Ed's pocket as she fell, and now he held it under his own chin. His hands shook and he swallowed hard.

"Stop!" Villanova shouted.

The world froze. Leon's breath came in ragged pants. Tears glistened on Faye's cheeks, matching the glass still caught in her hair.

"You want me, Villanova?" Leon said. "I'll come. But my friends are untouched or I pull this trigger."

"Let's all be reasonable about this," Draugh said. "I'm sure no one wants to watch you blow your head off, boy."

"Then my friends go free. Unharmed."

Villanova looked dubiously at Ed. "No  _further_  harm will be done to your friends. I swear it. Men, stand down."

The Dragon goons all holstered guns on hips and under shoulders.

"Now Faye gets to walk away and take Ed with her," Leon said.

Faye was openly crying now. "None of this was supposed to happen. You gave your word!" she shouted at Villanova "You told me no one would get hurt!"

Leon felt his legs turn to jelly. He turned to Faye, face drained of color. "She...knew?" he whispered, gesturing weakly at Villanova.

Faye looked up at him with guilt in her eyes, her mouth forming an "O" of surprise as she realized she gave away her secret. Leon's hands trembled even more. "You told them," he said.

Faye shook her head, her mouth forming the word "no," but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Then she nodded and met Leon's gaze and he knew.

Leon felt like someone knocked the breath out of him. He sagged back against the wall, struggling to hold himself up. Draugh caught him and gently wrested the gun from his grip. Leon barely even noticed.

"I thought I could stop all this madness, Leon, I really did. I didn't think…"

_Thwump!_ Draugh brought the butt of the Jericho down hard on Leon's temple and whatever else Faye said was lost as pain exploded in Leon's skull and he crumpled like a rag doll.

"Thank you, Ms. Valentine, for the advice, by the way. You were most helpful," Villanova smiled. Draugh picked Leon up and slung him over his shoulder like nothing more than deadweight. "I'm truly sorry about your friend there. That must be the infamous Radical Edward. I do hope I haven't put an end to  _her_ career. I'm sorry, Ms. Valentine, but I did what had to be done. I wish you only the best." And with that, the hallway emptied and the Dragon disappeared and Faye found herself alone with Edward.

* * *

When Jet finally managed to get out of the security booth, he found Faye crouched in the hall outside the kitchen, clutching Ed to her chest and crying. There was no sign of the Dragon and no sign of Leon. Somehow he'd hoped that what he'd watched in the security booth wasn't real. That his utter helplessness had just been an illusion. Jet's heart sank into his boots as the truth sank into his whole being. He knelt beside Faye. She buried her face in his chest and howled like a banshee.


	23. Session Twenty Three

Jet sat in the hospital waiting room, nervously wringing his hat in his hands. He'd been staring at the clock on the wall for the past several hours, watching the hands make slow, excruciating rounds. They'd been sitting at 8:59 for so long now, Jet swore the clock had stopped. He decided to stare at his shoes instead.

He still wore the security outfit from The Ares, but he'd removed the name badge and stashed it in his pocket. After getting Ed transported to the hospital, he sent Faye to the Bebop in a taxi. She was such an emotional wreck, he didn't think it was a good idea to bring her to the hospital. He'd had enough on his plate explaining Ed's gunshot wound without raising suspicion. He'd never seen Faye this empty before. Not even when Spike died. He wasn't sure what had her so emotionally wrung out, but he got the feeling he was playing shogi with only half an army.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jet realized he was running on only three hours of sleep in the last two days, but right now he couldn't even close his eyes. Not while Ed's life hung in the balance. He shook his head. Any amount of bounty the  _Bebop_  might get out of this mission was probably going to hospital bills now. But this time, he didn't mind. He'd give up all the bounties to keep his crew alive, Leon included. He realized that he wasn't sure what he'd do without the familiar crew.

"Just let her be ok," he muttered, although to who, he wasn't sure.

"Mr. Black," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Jet looked up to see a nurse dressed in pale blue scrubs standing at the waiting room door. Jet put his hat back on and took a deep breath, then stood up and followed her. His heart pounded like crazy and his knees felt weak. They walked down a hall and took a left turn, stopping in front of the third door on the right.

"After we got the bullet out and her blood pressure up, she responded well," the nurse said. "She's stable now. You can go in." She held the door open. "Call if you need me," she said, gesturing at a nurses station just down the hall. "I'll give you a few minutes."

Jet stepped into the room, suddenly unsure. Ed lay in the middle of a hospital bed, white sheets pulled up to her chest, her arms lying limp by her sides. She breathed gently, machines keeping track of her heartbeat and oxygen levels. An oxygen tube ran across her face and an IV snaked from her arm. Ed opened her eyes as Jet stopped at the side of the bed.

"Hey, Ed," Jet said. "How ya feelin'?"

"Strange," Ed said. She looked behind Jet, as if expecting someone else to be there.

"I sent Faye back to the ship," he said.

Ed swallowed. "And Leo?" she asked.

"The Dragon...got him," Jet said quietly.

"No," Ed said, trying to sit up. "No!"

Jet put a gentle hand on her shoulder and pushed her down. "Stay calm, Edward," he said.

Ed breathed deeply for a few seconds. "The Dragon took Leo?" she asked slowly.

Jet nodded.

Tears leaked from the corner of Ed's eyes. "We have to save him," she said. "We have to get him back."

Jet nodded again. "Yes. But we had to save you first," he said.

Ed looked around herself, as if noticing where she was for the first time. She frowned. "It hurt," she said, laying a hand on her stomach.

"I know," Jet said. "But they say you're stable now."

"Ed...got shot?" she asked.

"Yes."

Ed shuddered. "Jet…"

Jet slipped his hand in Ed's and she squeezed it hard. "Wounds heal, Edward," he said. "At least you get out of this one with all your arms and legs," he joked.

Ed smiled weakly, then frowned. "What about Leo?" she asked.

Jet gave her what he hoped was a confident smile. "We'll get him back. I promise."

"Ed wants to help," she said.

"Ed, you're in no shape to -"

"Where's Tomato?" she interrupted, some of the usual fire returning to her gaze.

"Faye took it back to the  _Bebop."_

"I can still type," she grinned. "Can you get it to me?"

There was a knock at the door. Jet glanced over his shoulder to see the nurse silhouetted against the frosted glass.

"I think that's my signal to go," he said. "But I'll bring your computer back. In the meantime, how about you get some rest?"

"Ok," Ed agreed.

The nurse opened the door and beckoned for Jet to leave. Jet gently pulled his hand out of Ed's grip and stood up. "I'll be back, Ed," he promised. "I'm just glad to see you...a-" he stopped himself from saying "alive." "Awake." he finished.

Ed smiled at him. "Just wait till Ed's back on her feet." She winked.

The nurse ushered him out of Ed's hospital room. On his way out, Jet stopped at the front desk to ask about delivering a Tomato.

* * *

When Jet got back to the  _Bebop,_ he found Ein pacing the deck nervously, whining softly.

"What's wrong, boy?" Jet asked, feeling his stomach sink.

Ein barked and ran to the stairs leading to  _Bebop_ 's main deck. Jet followed. Had he been wrong to send Faye back to the  _Bebop_  by herself? Had the Dragon come while he was gone? Ein ran into the living room and Jet followed, feeling his heart beat heavy against his ribcage.

To his relief, he found Faye sprawled on the couch, very much alive. Empty shot glasses lined the table in front of her. She looked like she was about to fall over or fall apart or both. She still wore her ripped purple dress and bloody black gloves. Shards of glass still sparkled in her hair and her makeup was smudged from crying. She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Ed?" she asked.

"She's gonna be ok, Faye," Jet said. "Which is more than I can say for you." Jet frowned and crossed his arms. Ein barked at Faye, standing with his legs splayed beside Jet.

A look of relief passed over Faye's face and then one of concentration, like she was trying to recall something important. "It's gone," she finally slurred.

"What?" Jet asked.

"The drugs," Faye said.

"Damn it!" Jet swore. The Red Dragon truck had been sitting in the warehouse beside the  _Bebop,_ just like it had been before, so Jet hadn't bothered to check it. "What about Andross?"

Faye shrugged and gestured toward the lower decks. "Asleep," she mumbled. Jet sighed. At least they still had one bargaining chip.

"And this?" Jet asked, gesturing to the glasses on the table. Ein growled at the glasses.

Faye looked at them for a long moment, like she was counting them. But she never came up with the same number. "It seemed like...a good idea at the time."

For a moment, Jet felt the urge to join her. But then he shook his head and walked up to the couch. "C'mon, Faye, pull yourself together. And take a bath. You're a mess." He held out a hand to her.

"Ok," she nodded, taking his hand. She stood up, a little unsteady, but at least she'd taken her heels off earlier, Jet noticed. She wobbled and grabbed his arm for support. Jet sighed. Guess he'd had to escort her to the tub. He started walking toward the stairs. Faye obediently walked beside him, clutching his metal arm.

"Jet?" she asked. "There's something I have to...say."

"Yes, Faye?" Jet said, as he started down the stairs with her.

She paused, as if lost for words again. "It was me," she finally said, and then burst into tears. She buried her face in Jet's jumpsuit, instantly soaking him with a waterfall of tears.

Jet was taken completely aback and settled for patting her back awkwardly. He met Ein's gaze over Faye's shoulder and the Corgi tilted his head and whined as if he was just as confused as Jet. Jet had no idea what Faye was talking about. Maybe she was referring to the empty bottles of alcohol he'd find when he went to the kitchen? Whatever it was, she was more upset than he'd seen her in a long time. Jet decided now was not the time to figure it out. He was too tired and Faye was too drunk. Whatever it was, they could deal with it after they both had some sleep. "It's ok, Faye," he said, pushing her away gently. "Just take a bath, alright?"

"You mean…" she hiccupped as the tears slowed. "You're not mad?" She blinked owlishly at him, smudged mascara making her look like some sort of Halloween decoration.

"No," Jet answered slowly.  _Should I be?_

"You...forgive me?" Faye asked.

Jet sighed. "I forgive you, Faye," he said, even though he had no idea what he was forgiving her for.

She looked immensely relieved and they reached the bottom of the stairs without further incident. After running a hot bath for Faye, Jet headed back upstairs. He sat down on the couch and stared at the shot glasses. They were lined up with almost military precision on the edge of the table and all empty. He shook his head. Faye only did stuff like this when she suffered from a particularly strong sense of guilt. So what was she feeling guilty about now? She hadn't done anything more than complain about the mission. Maybe she thought she didn't give it her best and it was her fault Leon was caught?

Jet rubbed his eyes. He wished for the thousandth time he'd been down in that hallway instead of trapped in the security room. While he'd seen most of what had gone down on the security cameras, he had no audio and no explanation for Faye and Leon's absolute horror right before Villanova took Leon. Somebody told the kid something that had basically destroyed him. Was it something Faye said? But what could she tell Leon that would make him give up like that?

Jet desperately wanted answers, but his body desperately wanted sleep. In the end, his body won out and he found his eyes closing of their own accord.

He didn't even stop snoring as Faye stumbled through the living room on her way to her room an hour later.


	24. Session Twenty Four

The room was bright. That much he could tell even with his eyes closed. He could feel all his limbs and move them. That was good. His head hurt, a constant pounding that centered on his right eye. That was weird. He didn't remember falling on his face. He opened his eyes. Light lanced his right eye like a spear and the room spun. That was a bad idea. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Opened them slowly.

Leon blinked. The room slid in and out of focus like a bad transmission. Spikes of light glared down from the ceiling and danced in blurring double-vision over everything in the room. Leon turned his head to look at the wall instead and immediately fought back a wave of nausea. He closed his eyes again. The nausea faded. He lay still for some time, listening and breathing.

He wasn't on the  _Bebop._ His quick glimpse of the room revealed plain white walls and white sheets, a single chair, a sink, and a couple of medical monitors lined up beside him. Aside from the soft whir of machinery, he didn't hear any movement. A hospital? That didn't make much sense. He didn't seem injured enough for a hospital. Just to be sure he wiggled his fingers and toes again. He couldn't feel any wounds anywhere, just the incessant pounding in his head.

But he didn't remember hitting his head.

Had he forgotten?

Leon thought back to the last thing he did remember. The Ares. The Dragon. A whirl of gunfire and smoke and chaos. Ed's blood covering his clothes, his hands, the floor. And Faye. Anger surged up in him as he pictured her wide green eyes and devastated face. How her lips tried to tell him she didn't while her eyes told him she did. How the glass glittered in her hair like diamonds - tiny, lying diamonds. How Ed's blood ran like a river in the floor. Then, darkness.

Leon felt another wave of nausea that had nothing to do with pain. The Dragon had him. What had they done to him after they left The Ares? Why was he laid up in bed with a splitting headache? The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to pretend he had no idea what was going on and he was home, in the  _Bebop,_ lying in Spike's old bed, Ein curled at his side. Where Faye's lies and Ed's gunshot wound weren't real.

He opened his eyes again and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He needed to know where he was and what was going on, even if every movement made him want to puke. He lifted his head and almost screamed at the mixed messages sent to his brain. The room spun and swayed and he clapped his hand to his right eye in frustration and pain. The spinning slowed, stopped. Leon blinked. He could see clearly out of his left eye. The glaring spikes of light retreated. He took his hand off his right eye and the light spikes, double vision, and nausea returned. He covered his right eye again.

When the room settled, he sat up. Movement didn't make him want to puke as much this time. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Someone had taken his shoes off, and they sat on the floor underneath the chair. Secondarily, he realized he didn't have a shirt on. He found his suit coat, tie, and shirt folded in a neat, clean pile on the chair. At least they left him his pants and his dignity. He blanched as he realized his pants were still covered in Ed's blood.

Just then he heard footsteps in the hall and the door opened, admitting a little man in a white coat, with close cropped dark hair. He looked like someone's family doctor, but Leon immediately hated him.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I thought the sedatives would wear off about now." The doctor smiled, like he was telling Leon about the weather.

"What have you done to me?" Leon demanded.

"Minor surgical procedures." The doctor shrugged and began washing his hands in the sink.

"Minor surgical procedures?" Leon hated the high pitch of fear that lurked in his voice, but right now he wanted answers more than respect.

"Yes, just a few cosmetic tweaks." The doctor agreed jovially. "Don't worry, in time, you'll hardly notice." His voice was falsely reassuring.

Leon was pretty sure he was going to notice for a long time. He wanted nothing more than to wipe the smile off the doctor's face. But he didn't have his Jericho. He looked down at his left hand, which was clenched in a fist in his lap. The doctor had his back to him, putting on gloves and humming softly to himself. With an inarticulate yell, Leon launched himself off the bed, fist aimed for the doctor's head. The doctor turned around before Leon reached him, stepped neatly forward, deflected Leon's clumsy punch, and grabbed his right arm, pulling his hand away from his eye. Leon staggered as the double vision returned. It was worse standing up. He tried to pull away, but the doctor grabbed his chin and forced his head up toward the light. Spears of light pierced his right eye as the world spun in ever dizzying circles. Leon gagged and the doctor let go of his chin, stepping lightly out of the way as Leon vomited on the floor. Leon fell to hands and knees, heaving, eyes tightly shut. After several seconds, the world stilled and Leon got control of his stomach again. He knelt, head down, panting. His headache was worse, knocking about like a gremlin with a hammer. His arms trembled and his hands were numb from shock.

"Now," the doctor said above him. "You'll only make it worse, carrying on like that. I haven't calibrated that eye yet, but I prefer you conscious for the process, so I can't knock you out yet."

Leon felt a cold finger of dread slide down his spine. Goosebumps broke out on his arms, despite the sweat dripping down his face.

_He doesn't have a cybernetic eye. I checked._ Faye's words floated back to him from his first night on the  _Bebop._

"You tore out my eye," Leon growled. He spit and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"That's one way of putting it, yes." The doctor crouched on the floor beside Leon. "Although I believe you'll come to find the features of this new one...advantageous."

"I don't care if I was blind in that eye. It was  _my_ eye, dammit."

"Losing a body part can be traumatic."

Leon looked up at the doctor from under sweaty strands of hair. He made sure to keep his right eye closed. "Traumatic? You think?" he spat, trying to clear his mouth of the acid burn of vomit.

"When one deals in body parts for a living, one tends to forget how much people regret the loss." The doctor shrugged and stood up, grabbing a plastic cup from a cabinet under the sink. He filled it with water and handed it to Leon. Leon debated throwing it in the doctor's face, but he decided that he'd rather drink it. He sat back against the wall with his elbows propped on his knees and took the cup. The doctor waited until Leon finished the water. He gestured to the sink as if to ask if Leon wanted more. Leon shook his head and let it rest against the wall.

"You said something about calibrating this god-awful piece of tech?" he asked tiredly.

"If you promise not to hit me again," the doctor scolded.

Leon glared at him. "Not like you fight fair, anyway. But alright. I won't hit you."

The doctor practically jumped with glee. "Now, for the eye! I daresay calibrating it will get rid of all the dizziness and double vision. I can't promise anything about the headache though."

Leon sighed. The doctor moved to one of the machines hooked up near the bed and pulled a keyboard out on a sliding tray. "You want to be more comfortable?" he asked, pointing at the bed.

"I'll stay here," Leon said. He didn't think he had it in him to move.

"Good. You might want to," the doctor said. "The calibration process can induce vomiting."

"Sadist," Leon accused.

The doctor looked genuinely offended. "This is much better than the process they had in your father's time," he huffed. "Back then, you had to go under anesthesia, adjust the eye, wake the patient up, see what the effects were, then do it all again until you got it right. Nowadays, these little babies are completely automatic and fully self-adjusting. I just open up the software for your eye on my computer, calibrate it, give the eye the proper settings, and voila! You'll never have to adjust her again."

Leon rolled his eyes, the right one grating against his eyelid. "I never had to  _adjust_  my old eye in the first place," he muttered.

"Stop whining," the doctor admonished. "And open your eye."

Leon swallowed a rising wave of panic and clenched his jaw. He opened his right eye, squinting against the light. At least the nausea wasn't horrible so long as he held perfectly still.

"Now, this may be a bit uncomfortable," the doctor said, typing something into the keyboard.

Leon grit his teeth against the sudden sensation in his skull. It was like someone moving gears in his eye socket. The world spun and tilted. Leon put his hands on the floor to steady himself. He moaned and closed his eyes instinctively.

"Keep them open!" the doctor ordered.

Leon forced himself to open his eyes and immediately lurched forward, vomiting again. The water he just drank splattered on the floor. Leon's stomach clenched with dry heaves and he coughed, trying to get his breath. When he calmed, he blinked, realizing that the light spikes were gone and the double vision was less.

"How is that?" the doctor asked calmly.

"I still...see double," Leon panted, on hands and knees again.

The doctor scratched his chin. "Right then. This should fix it," he said, tapping the keys again.

The room tilted again, but this time, there was nothing to lose and Leon clenched his teeth against the dizziness. After a few seconds, everything stilled and he looked up. The world didn't spin. Nothing moved and he only saw one of everything. He blinked. He felt a single tear trace his right cheek, but nothing else happened.

He suddenly realized that the doctor was kneeling in front of him. "Better?" he asked.

Leon nodded.

"Good. Drink this." The doctor handed him another plastic cup full of water.

Leon drank. He didn't even feel it when he hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no doctor, so I mostly imagined the effects of a cybernetic eye and the tech involved in putting one in (although I found out some interesting facts about how eyes work in the process of researching tears and fake/bionic eyes). Another shout out to Shadowcrest Nightingale's Dragons of the Darkwave (on Fanfiction.net) which has some scenes where Spike adjusts to his cybernetic eye that I'm sure unconsciously influenced this scene a bit. I imagine that the technology has improved somewhat since Spike got his eye (something like 20 years ago), hence the doctor's comment about the process being "better."


	25. Session Twenty Five

When Jet woke up, he cleaned the  _Bebop_. Faye was still asleep, Ed was still in the hospital, and Leon was still in Dragon custody. Jet felt like his world had been flipped upside down and thrown for a loop. Nothing was familiar anymore. He wasn't in control anymore. But he could control how clean his ship was. And that made him feel slightly less like a floating particle of dust in the middle of a wind storm.

Jet sighed and cleaned up Faye's mess of shot glasses and the blood she'd left on the couch. Ein followed him nervously, whining softly.

Jet stopped to rub the Corgi between the ears. "You don't like an empty ship either, do ya, boy?"

Ein whined again.

"It's ok, Ein. We'll get them all back." Somehow telling the Corgi made Jet feel a little better.

After that, he tidied up the piles of maps, clothing, and weapons that had been the result of their mad planning session. It was only a little over 24 hours since that night, but it felt like ages. Then Jet took a shower, put on a fresh t-shirt and jumpsuit and scoured the ship until he found Tomato. (Faye had left it in the refrigerator of all places.) He made the necessary arrangements with a delivery service to get it to Ed, then wandered into the kitchen and cooked himself some breakfast. He even let Ein have some of his food instead of the usual canned dog food this morning.

After breakfast, he walked out into the warehouse to check on the truck. He opened the back doors with a sinking feeling and cursed when he found the truck was as empty as the  _Bebop's_ bank account. Faye was right. He sat down on the edge of the empty cargo space and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it and smoked for a while in silence.

Without the drugs, he and Faye had no cards left in their hand. Contrary to what Villanova first said on the radio, Andross must not be worth much to the Syndicate now that they had their drugs. Jet shook his head. They shouldn't have trusted anything out of that woman's mouth anyway. It did mean, however, that Andross might be a viable source of information if Jet could convince him he'd been abandoned by his employer. Problem was, Andross ran on woolongs and Jet didn't have enough money to make any kind of tempting offer. He also didn't think Andross would fall for the promise of fake money twice. He did have one thing that might work though. Jet snubbed his cigarette out, slid off the truck, and headed back inside. It was time for the Black Dog to put some of his old skills to use.

Once inside, he grabbed his Walther, and headed downstairs. When he got to the holding cell, Andross and his henchman were sitting on the floor of the cell, talking in hushed voices. Andross was facing the stairs and made a quick motion with his hand as Jet approached. The two fell silent.

"Howdy, boys," Jet said, stopping just out of reach outside the holding cell. "Are you finding the accommodations to your liking?"

"Real cozy," Andross' henchman said through clenched teeth.

Andross gave Jet a patronizing look, but it was offset by his messy hair and sleep-disheveled clothes. "I've hardly seen a better room, cowboy," he said, standing up. His voice was smooth and even, but guarded. He knew Jet wanted something.

"You know the Dragon came and picked up their drugs last night?" Jet asked casually, studying the fingers of his metal hand.

"They didn't!" the henchman jumped to his feet.

"Keep it together, Jack. He's lying," Andross said, but Jet could hear a note of depression creep into his tone.

"Why would I lie about something like that?" Jet asked.

"To scare us into thinking we've been cut off," Andross said.

"I could do something like that. But if you knew me, you'd know I was an honest man. I just want to let you know that your Syndicate cut and run. Without you."

"And now we're of no use to you, so you're going to execute us or something suitably frightening, right?" Andross sounded tired.

"No." Jet shook his head. "I was going to let you go."

Andross was silent for a moment. "Let us go? Aren't you cowboys all about the money?"

"Sometimes," Jet shrugged. "But right now your information might be worth more than that."

"I already told the kid that I don't know anything important," Andross scowled.

"Well, then, I guess you aren't worth much more than money." Jet began to walk away.

"Wait!" Jack called him back. "I don't want to go to jail," he said. "We might know something you can use."

Andross looked like he was somewhere between admonishing Jack and giving him a pat on the back for a job well done. Jet hid a smile. Andross wasn't as hard as he wanted to project. Like any other man, he was only human - and even cocksure humans typically wanted to avoid jail.

"Good," Jet put his hands in his pockets. "Then we can start with what the Dragon wants out of Leon."

"The kid?" Jack asked.

Jet nodded.

"Well, he's Spike's boy, right?" Andross asked.

"He is." Jet didn't see any harm in confirming anything at this point.

"So, no one's told me anything solid," Andross began. "But I've put together a few pieces, alright?"

"Go on," Jet said.

"It's got something to do with the anniversary of Spike wiping out the original Red Dragon. That's in what…?" Andross looked over at Jack.

"Two days," Jack supplied.

Jet swore under his breath. Why hadn't he put that together earlier? It was about that time of year. "What do they want the kid for?" Jet asked, feeling his stomach sink.

Andross shrugged. "At that point, your guess is as good as mine. But I do know that Villanova's planning to bring all the Syndicates together for something big on the anniversary of the Red Dragon's destruction. That's why I was shipping the Dragon's Eye. She planned to reveal that to the other Syndicates at the event."

"And they want Leon there for it," Jet put a hand to his chin in thought.

"They want to kill him." Jack broke the silence, head down.

Jet was at the bars of the holding cell in an instant, metal arm snaking through the bars to grab the unwary Jack by the collar and pull him close. "They what?" he demanded. The two men were nearly face to face, only separated by the bars of the holding cell.

Jack looked scared but he stammered, "Th-they're gonna k-kill him."

Jet looked over at Andross, but Andross just shrugged, making sure he was out of Jet's reach.

"Are you sure about this?" Jet asked Jack.

Jack nodded vigorously. "I overheard some of the Syndicate leaders talking about it. They want him to be Spike for them."

"Scapegoat," Andross suggested.

Jet swore under his breath and let Jack go. Jack scrambled back out of Jet's reach. Jet turned and started to walk away.

"Hey!" Andross called out. "What about our deal?"

Jet stopped with a sigh and reached over to the control panel on the wall. He punched in a few numbers and the holding cell door slid open.

"That's it?" Andross asked. "We're free to go?"

"You're free to go." Jet said. "But you go back to the Dragon and I will put a bullet in you and forgo the bounty. Understood?"

Andross and Jack nodded. "Good, now walk." Jet pulled his Walther from his pocket and motioned at the stairs. The two men walked up the stairs and outside the Bebop at Jet's guidance. Jet made sure to see them outside the warehouse before he let them go. He watched them walk away before he put the Walther back in his pocket. Now to wake up Faye.

* * *

"Faye," Jet called, knocking on her door.

There was no answer.

"Faye!" He pounded a little louder.

"What?" he heard from inside.

"Faye, it's time to get up."

"I am up."

"Then open the door," Jet said through gritted teeth.

To his surprise, she did, standing in the door frame in a bathrobe, her hair sticking up on one side and smashed to her head on the other. "Can't you be more quiet, Jet?" she frowned.

"They're going to kill him, Faye," he said without preamble.

Faye's eyes went wide. "What? Who?" she asked.

"The Dragon. They're going to kill Leon."

Faye paled like she'd seen a ghost and looked like she was about to pass out. "No," she whispered.

Jet put a steadying hand out, afraid Faye was about to hit the deck. She staggered out into the hall and leaned against the wall. She was paler than Jet had ever seen her and she looked like she might burst into tears again.

"Are you alright?" he asked, giving her a long look.

Faye took a shaky breath. "You said you forgave me already, Jet," she said.

"What are you talking about?" Jet asked, voice dropping into a growl.

"You promised you weren't mad," Faye said, seeming to shrink into herself.

"What are you talking about?!" Jet demanded.

"Jet...I," Faye licked her lips. "I told the Dragon about our plan," she whispered. "It's my fault they got Leon."

"You did WHAT?!" Jet's metal fist pounded into the wall beside Faye's head, leaving a dent in the metal. Faye's eyes widened as she realized what could have happened to her if the punch had hit her instead. He missed on purpose. Jet was breathing heavily, eyes dark and rage clear on his face. "I thought you wanted to keep people from dying on this mission, Faye," he said, voice dangerously low.

"I did!" Faye said, drawing herself up. "I was trying to make you lunkheads see how in over your heads you were so maybe you'd give up this crazy plan! But no! You just had to keep going, straight into the lion's mouth!"

"The lion wouldn't have known to shut it's jaws if it didn't know we were there in the first place!"

"They would have known either way, Jet!"

"But they wouldn't have had an edge if you didn't spill our plan!"

"You don't know that!"

"I know that we would have had better odds. I know that we would have come back to the ship with Leon."

"What makes you so sure?" Faye hissed. "We didn't come back to the ship with Spike."

"That's because Spike left, dammit!" Jet roared. "Don't you get it Faye? We couldn't have stopped Spike if we'd tied him down. It was his mission, and his alone. Did I want to watch my best friend walk off like that? Hell, no! But I also couldn't stop him. Then Spike's son falls into my lap like some sort of sign from heaven and I think I've got a chance to do right by my old friend. Until you march Leon into a freakin' death trap! You wanna know why Leon got caught? Because you walked him into a dead end, Faye. You put his back against a wall and pulled the trigger. Spike knew he was going in alone when he left. Leon thought he was going in with his friends at his back and he finds out they're at his back alright - holding a damn knife."

"I was trying to protect him!" Faye yelled, livid.

"Faye, you were trying to protect yourself. Admit it. You didn't want to watch Spike die in front of you again, so you tried to keep your emotions safe by dragging Leon in over his head for the sake of your heart."

"So maybe I was, Jet!" Faye burst into tears. "Maybe I did want to save myself the pain of losing Spike again! Because maybe, just maybe, I haven't gotten over him yet. I don't know how you and Ed waltz around her so glib all the time. It's like Spike never meant anything to you at all!"

Jet's frown deepened and something almost electric crackled between him and Faye. Jet put his other hand on the wall beside Faye's head, so that he hemmed her between his arms. She had no choice but to look him in the eye. "Don't you ever suggest that Spike meant nothing to me, Ms. Valentine." Jet spoke between clenched teeth. "I loved Spike like a brother and I would have died ten thousand times to bring him back. But I'm sure as hell not gonna place his sins on his son's shoulders. _How dare you accuse me of not caring_."

Faye shrank against the wall, for the first time in her life, truly afraid of Jet. She realized just how strong he was and just how strongly he felt about the loss of Spike. And just how selfish she'd been, hoarding all her emotions to herself like she was the only one who felt anything.

"Now, when you think you can talk like a civil woman, I'll be on the bridge," Jet said, not meeting Faye's eye. He took his hands off the wall and walked away without looking back at her.

Faye slid to the floor in tears. Ein padded up softly and nudged her hand with his nose. She grabbed the little Corgi and buried her face in his fur.


	26. Session Twenty Six

When Leon woke the second time, the room was clean and empty. No sign of the doctor. No return of dizziness or double vision. He still had a headache, but the throb was bearable. He sat up. Someone had added a clean pair of slacks to the pile of clothes in the chair. He stared at the machinery beside the bed for a long moment, watching his reflection in the dark monitors. The skin around his right eye was puffy and swollen but otherwise, the doctor was right. There was hardly any difference between his real eye and the false one. At least, not in such a makeshift mirror.

With a sigh, he stood up and was relieved when the room remained steady. He was surprised that he wasn't tied up, but he supposed that locking the door was as good a restraint as any. There were no windows in the room and no other way out. Leon decided it was time to find out exactly where he stood with the Dragon. He got dressed in the new pants and pulled on the rest of Spike's old clothes. After putting on his shoes, he tested the door. To his utter surprise, it wasn't locked. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The hallway was windowless, just like the room he'd left. Leon guessed he must be underground. The hall was bare and white and lit with fluorescents, reminding Leon strongly of a hospital.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, digging around for a cigarette, but there was nothing in any of the pockets.

"Looking for this?" a voice interrupted.

It took everything in him not to jump and whirl to face the voice. Leon turned slowly to face Draugh, sitting in a chair propped against the wall to Leon's right. The older man held out a cigarette. Leon cursed himself for not noticing him earlier.

"It's alright, Gray tells me that your peripheral will return in time. Apparently it's the last part of your sight to sync in those cybernetic eyes."

Leon glared at him, but he took the offered cigarette. Draugh pulled Leon's silver lighter out of his pocket and tossed it to him. Leon caught it left-handed and lit his cigarette. He inhaled.

"What do you want with me?" Leon asked, slipping the lighter in his pocket. Draugh didn't object.

"Personally?" Draugh said, lowering all four legs of his chair back to the floor. He stood up. "I don't want anything from you."

"I thought you wanted me to join the Syndicate."

Draugh smiled, but it looked tight. "Perhaps," he said.

"But not now?" Leon prodded.

Draugh shrugged. "Villanova has...other plans."

"Like tearing out my eye?" Leon scowled.

"A necessary evil."

Leon shook his head, and took another draw on the cigarette. He exhaled before he answered. "You Dragons think every evil is 'necessary.'"

"We have some good virtues. However, I believe it will take more than a cybernetic eye for you to see that."

Leon didn't answer. After all, Draugh was right.

Draugh cleared his throat. "Now, Villanova wants me to take you to your room, so if your questions can wait, I'll take you upstairs."

"My room?" Leon asked.

"Seems not," Draugh chuckled. "And yes, your room. Unless you'd rather stay here?" Draugh gestured at the door.

Leon put his hands in his pockets and affected an uninterested slouch. "No, no a new room's fine."

"Good, then let me show you some real Dragon hospitality." Draugh started to walk down the hall.

"You're not going to tie me up or anything?" Leon asked.

Draugh turned and gave him a curious look. "No. But I'd like to remind you that you are in the Dragon's Tower. While the men have been ordered not to kill you yet, there are no restrictions on maiming, shooting, or detaining you. Just something to keep in mind should you decide to leave. I'd also like to remind you that there are cameras everywhere. You can't even take a piss without the captain of the guard knowing about it."

Leon shuddered. "That's...unpleasant," he muttered.

"Welcome to your new home, boy."

Leon scowled and followed Draugh down the hall. Draugh led him to an elevator. They stepped in and he pressed the button for the 11th floor - the buttons were labeled up to 15. The elevator gave a slight shudder and began to rise. Leon could feel the weight of the elevator's speed pressing down on him and he reached a hand out to the gold bar running at waist height around the car. His head throbbed and he felt the beginnings of nausea coming on again. He clamped his teeth around his cigarette. Draugh gave him a sideways glance as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened.

Leon stepped out, feeling a little disoriented, but his stomach calmed as he stood on solid ground again. The two men stood on a polished wood floor decorated with a geometric pattern. The floor was circular and open in the center with a glass waist-high wall topped with a gold rail running around the circle's inner edge. Doors led off the outer edge of the circle. Potted plants of varying exotic backgrounds were attractively arranged around the floor, creating small private areas where someone could take a phone call or eat their lunch. If Leon didn't know he was standing in the Dragon's tower, he would have thought he'd walked into a bank.

Draugh walked up to the rail and motioned for Leon to follow. Leon walked up, making sure to put Draugh on his left, and stared down the open center of the building at concentric floors below. People hurried across the floors below, all heading somewhere with purpose. Leon caught glimpses of suits and guns and the simpler dress of janitors and staff as the members of the tower want about their business.

"It's impressive," he breathed, almost to himself.

"It is, isn't it," Draugh agreed as he lit a cigarette of his own. "Fifteen floors of pure Syndicate, representing fifteen years of hard work. We've got state-of-the-art labs, holding cells, communications centers, weapon facilities, cafeterias, quarters for well over 300 members and, of course, a hospital. Not to mention a library, and training facilities for the recruits. In fact, you could almost say we're civilized."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Leon asked, tapping his cigarette against the rail and watching the ashes fall out of sight down the center of the tower.

Draugh shrugged. "I thought it might be more interesting for you than saying nothing."

Leon sighed. "Yeah, I guess there's that."

"Lost your fire, boy?"

Leon didn't even raise his hackles at being called boy this time. He just felt tired. And alone. "You could say that," Leon said in a moment of vulnerability. "I just found out that Faye betrayed me, Villanova shot Ed, you kidnapped me, and I lost my eye. Am I supposed to be happy about all this?"

It was Draugh's turn to shrug. "I suppose not. But you're still alive, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Leon said, giving Draugh a glance out of the corner of his eye. "For now."

Draugh looked away too quickly. Leon felt his stomach drop into his shoes, but he decided not to ask.

"Well," Draugh said brusquely. "Your room's this way." He gestured to the left and the two started walking again. Draugh led Leon about three-quarters of the way around the circle from the elevator and stopped at a door inset into the wall. He opened the door and ushered Leon inside. Leon put his hands in his pockets and sauntered through the door.

He wasn't expecting the grandeur that met him on the other side. He stepped into a large suite, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a balcony overlooking Tharsis directly across from him. A bed that would dwarf his entire room on the  _Bebop_  took up the left side of the room, facing a tv on the right side that was wider than Leon was tall. A fountain in one corner burbled merrily and more potted plants were scattered attractively around the room, half-concealing doors that led into what Leon guessed would be a bathroom or kitchenette. Villanova sat on a rounded white couch in the center of the room, legs crossed, a tea set laid out on the low coffee table in front of her. She was dressed casually again, a pair of cargo pants, complete with gun belt and gun, a white t-shirt, with her hair swept back out of her face. She held a steaming cup of tea in her bandaged right hand.

"Mr. Spiegel," she smiled and gestured at the tea table. "Why don't you join me for tea?"

* * *

Leon took a cautious sip of his tea, blowing on it to cool it first. He was surprised by the pleasant flavor of the tea, citrusy, with a hint of spice he couldn't name. He almost regretted snuffing his cigarette in the teapot now. Villanova had given him a hefty scowl for it, but he'd felt an inane sense of pride at his little act of rebellion.

"You like it, Mr. Spiegel?" Villanova asked. Draugh had apparently not been invited to this little tea ceremony, since he left after Leon took a seat.

"Stop calling me that," Leon sighed.

Villanova took a sip of her tea, giving Leon an amused look over the rim of her teacup. "It's who you are, boy, whether you like it or not."

"I like 'boy' even less," Leon said.

"Then what do you prefer?" Villanova asked. Leon hated the gleam of amusement in her eye.

"Just Leon."

"Alright, Leon," Villanova shrugged like it didn't matter what Leon's name was. "Now, you want to know why you're here, don't you?"

"That'd be cool," Leon admitted, hiding his expression in his teacup. He didn't trust himself to keep a steady face right now.

"You know your father killed the Syndicate."

"So I've heard."

"And you know I've rebuilt it."

"So I've seen."

Villanova silenced Leon with a glare. "Don't interrupt,  _boy_."

Leon fell into surly silence.

"Here's the thing. Re-building a syndicate isn't easy. It takes a lot of power and a lot of money and a lot of...charisma," Villanova chose her word carefully. "I have clawed my way up fifteen years of doubt to bring the Dragon back to life. You know there are other Syndicates out there, yes?"

"White Tiger and Blue Snake," Leon said.

Villanova nodded, looking almost proud of him. "Yes. Up until recently, they enjoyed a limelight they had rarely seen when the Dragon was in full power. But I've been taking back control of all the drug trades, brothels, casinos, and crime in this city. And I need an event that will solidify my power over the Tiger and the Snake once and for all. They've gotten cocky. They think they hold the dragon under their boot like a lizard. But I will show them that this lizard still breathes fire. And I'm going to do it by eliminating the last threat to the Dragon's power. You."

Leon's stomach plummeted into his shoes and he set his teacup down to hide the sudden shake in his hands. He managed to keep his voice steady when he spoke. "Look, I'm no threat to the Dragon." He licked dry lips. "I'll walk away right now and pretend we never met if you want. I don't want the Dragon, or it's power. You can have it, and gladly."

Villanova laughed. "I'm not worried that you'll try to take the Dragon from me, Leon. But it's no secret that you hold no love for my Syndicate. And, knowing what your father did to us the first time around, I can't let you go as a free agent. Who knows, you might come back to destroy me in fifteen years." Villanova took a slow sip of her tea.

Leon didn't know what to say.

"That's why I need you to play a little part for me in two days. Are you game?" she asked coyly.

"Not for you," Leon said.

Villanova shook her head. "Aren't you even the least bit curious?"

"No," Leon whispered, feeling goosebumps break out on his arms. The hair on the back of his neck rose and his headache pounded at his skull with renewed ferocity.

Villanova  _tskd_ into her cup.

"Actually, yes," Leon said slowly. "I am curious about one thing."

Villanova raised an eyebrow as if to say  _go on_.

"If you're just going to...eliminate...me in two days, why go to all this trouble?" he gestured at the cybernetic eye.

Villanova leaned forward and put her teacup on the table, bracing her elbows against her knees.

"Because it's not you I need to kill. It's your father."

Leon was on his feet in an instant. "I AM NOT SPIKE!" he yelled. "Why can't anybody stop acting like I'm someone I'm not?! And why do you think the Syndicates are going to fall for you killing a nineteen-year-old boy instead of the forty-something-year-old man my father would be!?"

"Sit down before you hurt someone," Villanova said.

Leon realized his hands were balled into fists. He crossed his arms, but didn't sit down.

"Look," Villanova said, gesturing to the tv screen, which reflected the room, herself, and Leon. "I don't have to try so hard to make this illusion work. You've already got the height, build, and hair to be your father's twin," she pointed at Leon's reflection. "I can fix your age with makeup and some lighting. The only thing I can't fake is a cybernetic eye. And I know that there are Tiger and Snake operatives who will scan my deception for just such a thing. I need them to  _believe_  you're Spike so that I can put him to death once and for all and let the Dragon rise back to her rightful place at the top of the Syndicates. Does that answer your question, Mr. Spiegel?"

Leon was pale as he answered. "I think that just about wraps it up, Villanova. Now get out of my room."

Villanova laughed.

"Get out," Leon hissed, taking a step forward.

She stood then, her hand briefly dropping to the grip of the gun at her belt. Leon tensed, but Villanova took her hand away after a moment.

"Very well," she said, straightening her shirt. She walked to the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. "Oh, Mr. Spiegel, I think it's only fair that you know you'll be playing bait for your friends on the  _Bebop_ as well. I've got a lovely little trap laid for them should they try and spring a rescue for you. There's no way out of this one."

"GET OUT!" Leon grabbed the teapot and flung it at Villanova's retreating figure. It shattered against the door just as Villanova pulled it shut behind her, splattering dark tea over the pristine white walls and carpet.

Leon sank to the couch, feeling utterly drained. Any way he looked at it, Villanova held all the cards. Leon didn't see much of a way out of the situation. And after Faye's little stunt in the casino, he wasn't sure what to think of the  _Bebop_ anymore. Did Faye even care about him? Was Ed still alive? Would Jet come for him? Surely Jet would come, even if Faye didn't. But if he did come, would he just get killed too? Villanova said she had a trap. And much as Leon wanted out of this hell, he didn't want to be the death of any of the  _Bebop_ crew.

Leon flopped back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

"Couldn't you have just left me a safe legacy, dad?" he muttered. "Would that have been too much to ask?"


	27. Session Twenty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where all the plans begin to come together...and Faye tries for some reconciliation. I'd love to hear your thoughts as we delve deeper into this crazy rescue ;) And, as always, thanks to all who have read, commented, or left a kudos!

Jet ran a hand over his head and stared at his computer screen for what seemed like the thousandth time. After calling Bob in on a few more favors, he'd convinced his old friend to give him access to the ISSP building database. Everyone who built something on any of the planets was required to go through ISSP's County Division (a name that had stuck around since Earth times) to get the proper permits to build. In a city as developed as Tharsis, even the Syndicates would have gone through the permits office to build their extravagant above-ground towers and penthouses. Of course, they did it all under legal-sounding names and business ventures, but ISSP's County Division never asked too many questions anyway. Jet had the blueprints to the current Dragon Tower pulled up on his computer screen, and was comparing them with paper copy blueprints of the old Dragon Tower he'd dug out of Spike's room.

"Ok, Ed, where did you say they had Leon again?" he looked over at his phone, which he had propped against an ashtray so he could talk to Ed.

"Currently?" she chirped from the phone screen.

"Yeah."

"Let me do a look-see," she sang, disappearing from Jet's view. He heard furious typing in the background, along with some  _oohing_  and  _aahing_  from Ed.

Jet's third cigarette of the night dangled between his metal fingers, slowly burning up. He'd called a rather exhausted sounding nurse at the hospital earlier to speak with Ed. The nurse sounded relieved that he was going to occupy Ed's time for a few hours.

From what he'd seen of her on his screen, Ed was already up and moving around, even if it was lacking her usual speed. She wasn't hooked up to any tubes or wires this evening and it appeared that she'd wrangled someone's desk and turned it into her center of command. Ed kept whizzing in and out of Jet's field of view (in a rolling chair, he guessed) and he caught glimpses of Tomato and other computers all hooked up to each other.

"Ed, tell me you haven't stolen a nurses' station," Jet muttered, facepalming.

Ed zoomed back into his field of view. "Edward, steal?" she fluttered big amber eyes at him. "Never!" Ed crossed her heart. "Jet and Faye Faye and Spike person taught Ed better than that."

Jet had to laugh despite himself. "Right, so you  _requisitioned_  a nurses' station?"

"That's the word!" Ed pointed a finger gun at Jet through the screen. "Ed figured she'd put it to better use than the nurses anyway. They were just doing boring stuff like answering the phone and looking at records, nyah." Ed stuck out her tongue like she'd tasted something bad.

Jet took a draw on his cigarette to hide his smile. He'd have to cross Tharsis General off the list of hospitals he could take injured crew members to. After Ed, they probably wouldn't trust anybody from the  _Bebop_ in a ten-foot radius of any hospital equipment.

_Oh well, we got bigger fish to fry._

Ed zipped out of view again. "Here we go, Jet," she said. "Ed has Leo's position."

"Hit me."

"Eleventh floor," Ed said. "It looks like some kind of private suite for fancy-pants broo ha ha."

"Um, right." Jet wasn't sure what fancy-pants broo ha ha was, but when he found the corresponding room on the blueprints he guessed that was an accurate description of it. It was the largest room on the eleventh floor and it seemed to have been built for visiting guests of honor at the Dragon Tower. "Why would they put Leon there?" Jet muttered.  _Especially if they're just going to kill him in two days._ Jet hadn't mentioned that part to Ed yet because he didn't want to worry her more.

Ed showed back up on-screen and shrugged. "Ed thought they would put him in the dungeon."

"Me too, Ed," Jet muttered, scanning the rest of the eleventh floor on the blueprints. Most of the floor was taken up by office space or conference rooms - a floor Jet imagined the Dragon would use to host important guests so that they could be close to any meetings they had to attend. So why put Leon there?

"Is there anyone with him?" Jet asked.

"No," Ed shook her head. "He's alone. It looks like he's...having tea?" Ed sounded puzzled.

"Wait, you can see him?"

"Of course Ed can see him," she answered like it was obvious. "Ed hacked the Dragon's security cameras. Ed can see live-feed from the Dragon and heat signatures too."

"That's brilliant, Ed," Jet said. "Now we can keep tabs on Leon no matter where they take him."

"Yup, yup!"

"Has he had any visitors while we've been talking?"

"No. It looks like there's one guard outside his door, but there's nobody else on the floor right now."

Jet put his head in his chin in thought. Why would they keep Leon in such a nice room without a heavy guard? The Dragon obviously didn't expect him to run. But Jet knew he'd expect Leon to fight if he were holding him prisoner. So, either the Dragon was sure that Leon wasn't going to run, or they had enough firepower in the building that they weren't worried about him running. So far, it didn't look like the kid was fighting the Dragon. Maybe he didn't think he could? Maybe he thought the  _Bebop_ wasn't coming for him and the fight wasn't worth it? Or, God forbid, he thought he'd go out like Spike and he was staying to make a suicide run on The Dragon. Jet shuddered.

Perhaps the Syndicate had convinced him that he'd been abandoned by his friends. Perhaps they were still trying to convince Leon to join them by tricking him into believing there wasn't any rescue _._  Jack seemed pretty certain they wanted to kill him, but Jack was just a henchman. How much could he actually know? The sinking feeling in the pit of Jet's stomach wouldn't let him discount what Jack said though. It sounded like something the Dragon would do. In fact, it was something Faye had suggested to Leon when they first picked the kid up. Jet and Faye both knew how tenacious the Dragon could be. He wasn't about to take any chances. There was no way he would let that kid stay with the Dragon any longer than necessary.

"...and then we zoom-zoom and pew-pew and ride off into the sunset!"

Jet suddenly realized that Ed had been talking to him this entire time.

"Jet, are you even listening to Ed?" she asked, putting her face close to the screen and raising one eyebrow.

"No, sorry, Edward, I was thinking. What did you say?"

Ed rolled her eyes. "Ed said she had a plan, but Jet didn't want to hear it."

"No, no, I want to hear your plan," Jet said.

Just then, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Out of his peripheral, Jet saw Faye enter the bridge, but he didn't look up from the phone. She stopped at the top of the stairs, like she wasn't sure she should interrupt Jet's conversation.

"On second thought, Ed, I'm going to have to call you back," Jet said.

"Jeeeeet! That's not fair!"

"I need to talk to...someone."

"Is it Faye Faye?" Ed asked.

Jet answered after a moment's hesitation. "Yes."

"Why can't Ed talk too? Ed wants to talk to Faye Faye!"

"Sorry, Ed, you can say hi later." Jet hit the button to disconnect the call, feeling sorry for the nurses who would have to put up with a disgruntled Ed. He'd make it up to her later. And maybe find some way to apologize to the nurses as well.

"Hey," he said, looking up at Faye for the first time. He scowled. She was wearing some of Spike's old clothes, a pair of dark slacks and a button-up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. She carried Leon's trench coat under one arm and fiddled nervously with a fedora in her hands. She looked taller and...flatter...somehow. She squirmed under Jet's scrutiny of her new look.

"Hi," she finally said. She walked up to the edge of the table and looked down at the blueprints. "Planning a rescue?"

"Damn right, I am."

"Jet, I…" Faye paused and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. And I want to help."

Jet sighed and ran a hand over his head. "You know it's a little hard to trust you right now, Faye."

"I know," she said. Jet looked up at her in surprise. He'd expected her to argue. "I know I screwed up," she continued. "And I know you probably can't forgive me for this yet. But, if you'll have me, consider this my formal apology and my chance to redeem myself. I want in on the rescue."

Jet sat for a long moment in silence. "I don't know why I keep taking you back after all you've done, Faye," he finally said.

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" Faye tried to joke, but she felt like Jet had just stabbed her with a knife and twisted it.

Jet snorted. "I think you've already used your fair share of 'goodness.' Look, Faye, it's one thing to cheat me out of my money. It's another animal entirely when you try to get Leon killed."

"I didn't try to get him-"

Jet held up a hand to stop her. "Everything you do has consequences," he said. "And those consequences are your responsibility. Even the ones you don't intend. Sometimes, I honestly don't know how you live with yourself at night."

Faye looked at him steadily. "You know, right now, neither do I, Jet. So give me something to do so that I can."

Jet looked shocked. He hadn't expected Faye to feel regret this deeply. "Alright," he said gruffly. "Then there's no point beating this horse into the ground. I take it you have a plan?" he said, gesturing to Faye's clothes.

"I have an insane and crazy idea that might fit into the plan you and Ed are making."

"It doesn't have anything to do with calling the Dragon, does it?" The expression of hurt on Faye's face almost made him regret his words.

"No, it doesn't," she said, her tone final.

"Good."

"Is there any way I can make it up to you, Jet?"

Jet gave her a wan smile. "Not right now," he said frankly. "I've got a lot to think through, you being on the top of the list."

Faye deflated at Jet's honesty, but she swallowed and nodded. "I understand," she said.

"Look, Faye, it's really not me you need to worry about making up with," Jet said. "It's Leon. Assuming we get the kid back in one piece."

Faye went a shade paler. "I know. Which is all the more reason we've got to get him back. I need to tell him I'm sorry. For everything."

Jet nodded, looking serious.

"Does Ed know?" Faye asked.

Jet shook his head. "She doesn't seem to remember anything from the casino after she got shot. But I'll leave that to you to explain. I also haven't told her that the Dragon plans to kill Leon."

Faye nodded. "Ok," she said.

"So, what's this crazy idea of yours?" Jet asked, lacing his fingers in front of him and trying to relax.

"Well," Faye said slowly. "I'm the one who got Leon into this mess, so I want to be the one to get him out."

Jet's eyes slowly widened. "You're going to switch places with him, aren't you?" he asked.

Faye nodded. She put the fedora on her head, tucking her hair up under it. Then she slipped into the trenchcoat. "Do you think it'll work?" she asked.

Jet tilted his head, studying Faye for a long moment. He had seen Faye transform herself into a lot of people before, but never a man. And never someone who looked so much like Spike. With a wig and some makeup, he imagined she'd do a pretty good impression of Leon so long as they didn't give the Dragon a chance to study Faye up close. But in the chaos Jet knew their rescue plan would entail, he figured this crazy scheme might actually work.

"Well...it's a long shot," Jet said. "But I think that you might be able to pull it off. We'll need to find you a wig," he said. "And you'll have to work your makeup magic on your face. But this might actually be the missing piece to the puzzle Ed and I are trying to solve."

Despite herself, Faye smiled under the hat. "Then let's call Ed and get Leon back, shall we?"

* * *

Ed picked up almost as soon as the phone rang. "Jet, you son of a-" she stopped mid-yell when she saw Faye standing behind Jet. "Oh, hi, Faye Faye!" Ed waved, grinning. "Why are you dressed all funny?" she asked. "You look like Spike person." She screwed up her nose. "How come Jet didn't let me talk to you?"

"I'll fill you in later, Edward," Faye said. "But right now, we need to make a plan."

"Oh! Ed has a plan!" Ed said, giving Jet the stink eye.

"Right," Jet said, putting a hand to his neck. "Sorry I hung up on you, Ed. You can tell us your plan now. I'm all ears."

"Ok, like Ed was saying before, we should get someone on the inside of the Dragon tower by pretending to have them join one of the other Syndicates. Jet said the Dragon is playing tea-party with the Snake and Tiger in two days, so there will be lots of confusion with people arriving at the Tower all at once. We should be able to send someone inside sneaky-sneaky. Then, they find Leon. Once they do that, Ed disables the cameras and they run like hell to where Jet has the  _Bebop_  waiting outside the tower. We pick up Leon and then disappear into the sunset!" Ed pumped a fist in the air.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Ed?" Jet asked.

"What?"

"You're in the hospital."

"You can just pick up Ed on your way to the sunset." Ed smiled.

Jet chuckled. "You always make everything sound so easy, Ed."

"Well, if you think it will be, then it is." Ed winked.


	28. Session Twenty Eight

Leon stood on the balcony overlooking Tharsis. He'd been left to himself after Villanova talked to him yesterday. Although he'd scoured his room several times, he hadn't been able to find any of the cameras Draugh alleged. Despite that, he felt watched - like a bird in a gilded cage, a curiosity, a prize. He hadn't seen Villanova or Draugh today and there was only one guard posted outside his room. The guard didn't seem to care if Leon left his room. He'd ventured out on three different occasions to explore. He spent a good bit of time in the library reading about the history of the Dragon, especially Yenrai's days and any mention he could find of his father. He'd been surprised to find there wasn't much on Spike, but most of what he did find spoke of him favorably - as one of the Dragon's best men, right beside Vicious. However, a later addition to some of the history, probably on Villanova's authority, painted Spike as a demon, hell-bent on destruction.

He'd gone lower in the Tower, but eventually he'd reached a floor where he'd been met by a couple of security guards and escorted back to his room. He ventured out again and tried to go up to the fifteenth floor, but he'd been met by guards again. And the one time he'd gotten within ten feet of an outside door, he'd been set upon by about eight armed guards in body armor. After that, he stayed in his room, mostly pacing. An orderly delivered food to him throughout the day, and he'd taken his dinner out on the balcony to eat. He knew he was probably still being watched by Dragon cameras, but at least out here he felt like he could think without being overheard. The remains of dinner sat on his plate behind him and he stood at the rail, wishing for a cigarette. He still had his lighter, but no one bothered to leave him anything to light with it.

The sun was setting behind the skyline in a brilliant display of color. Flashes of liquid gold ran down the sides of the towering Tharsis skyscrapers. Blood-red fingers of light reached through the buildings and Leon shivered, feeling like they were reaching for him. He looked down as he felt the beginnings of a headache center around his right eye again. His headache had come and gone throughout the day, aggravated by sudden changes in light or his position. And while he no longer felt like puking every time he turned around, he still felt like his balance was off if he moved too fast.

He frowned as he watched people hurry by eleven stories below. This far up, they were hardly more than dots on the pavement. He doubted they'd even see him if they looked up. How many times had he walked by the buildings like this and never looked up? How many buildings had he walked by with someone like him standing on the balcony, wishing they were anywhere but here? Leon chuckled. If he'd looked up at a building like this a few months ago - when he was living on his own, stretching his money between bounties - he would assume that anybody in it was happy and rich and content. He definitely wouldn't think that they were a prisoner standing so close to freedom they could taste it, but too far away to reach it.

Leon slammed his hand into the balcony railing with a curse. He shook his head and cradled his hand as the railing resisted in the usual metal fashion. The only way out of this whole mess that he could see was down. A quick jump over the railing, a few heart-stopping seconds of free-fall, and one bone-shattering impact on the street below. It was the only sure way to stop the Dragon from killing him first. But the idea repulsed him. If he jumped, he'd be giving up. If he jumped, he'd be turning his back on the  _Bebop._ If he jumped, Villanova would get the death she wanted. And he had no doubt she'd be just as thrilled to show the Syndicates his dead body as she was to present him alive and then kill him.

Jumping meant admitting defeat. And, much as he didn't want to admit it, he was his father's son. Defeat just didn't run in his blood. He'd be damned if he let Villanova win this one without a fight. Besides, Jet was smart. He'd expect Villanova to lay a trap for him. He'd come prepared, maybe he'd even call ISSP in on this one. Maybe...maybe...maybe. Everything was so unsure. Was this how Spike felt before he fought the Syndicate? Leon thought he was beginning to understand why Spike did it. But God, did it have to be so confusing?

Leon sighed and hung his head. His headache had increased to a steady pound again, and his right hand throbbed from where he'd slammed it into the railing. He closed his eyes. The stabbing pain on the right side of his skull lessened somewhat. He needed answers. He needed some sort of assurance that somebody...anybody...was coming for him.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the street again. A flash of white caught his eye and he casually followed it as it traveled down the street, absently wishing he could see it better. At about the same moment, he felt a twitch in his right eye and suddenly he was looking at the world through an overlay, like he was watching a HUD on a phone or computer. He grabbed the balcony railing to keep his balance and covered his left eye so he wouldn't get conflicting images. As he followed the flash of white on the street, his vision zoomed in like a camera, until he could see a woman in a flowing, glittering white pantsuit, her arm wrapped though the arm of a young man in a pinstripe suit with a matching fedora. Despite the blond wig and the sweeping hat covering half her face, Leon thought the woman looked familiar.

Faye!

Leon did a double take. He felt his heart pound in his chest and took a couple deep breaths. What was Faye doing at the Dragon Tower? And why the heck did this eye act like a sniper's scope? He watched Faye for a few moments longer, then he blinked and the overlay was gone and his vision returned to normal. Leon sat down in a nearby chair, feeling a little unsteady. He blinked a few times and waited until his heart stopped racing. Then he looked up at a building across the way and he concentrated on a flag hanging off its top floor. He thought about wanting to see it better and again, something triggered his right eye and he found himself with a close-up view of the flag. Leon blinked and the binocular vision disappeared. Why would the Dragon give him such an obvious tactical advantage? Then again, he chuckled darkly, he didn't see how enhanced vision was going to get him out of this mess.

His thoughts strayed back to Faye and he wondered for the second time what she was doing here. Did this mean she was part of a rescue? Was she trying to make up for her behavior at the casino? Leon shuddered as a worse thought suddenly struck him. Or did this mean she was actually working for the Dragon? She was very upset back at the casino, but maybe that was just because Ed had became a casualty. Did she really care about the  _Bebop_ crew? Jet had eluded to a rocky past with Faye on more than one occasion, but Leon never did get full details out of him. Just how deep did her loyalties lie? And on whose side?

Leon staggered back to the railing and looked down, but he didn't see the tell-tale flash of white this time. He thought about magnifying the street and summoned his eagle-vision again, desperately scanning the street below for any sign of Faye or her companion. But the only thing he succeeded in was spiking his headache as his enhanced vision blurred images in an attempt to keep up with his frantic searching. Leon blinked and sank to the floor of the balcony, his back to the short wall that ran around it's edge. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall behind him, wishing he had more answers than questions for once in his life.

* * *

Faye took a deep breath and walked down the street towards the Dragon tower. It wasn't like she hadn't done this kind of mission before. In fact, she'd often gone into crime nests in disguise. Granted, the amount of times she'd also been found out was fairly high. But at least there was no Vicious this time. Faye gave a brief shudder. Her companion, a young ISSP officer who'd managed to infiltrate the Tiger's highest ranks, gave her a concerned look. Faye shook her head and gave him a smile.

"If you say so," he said, brown eyes watching her closely from under the brim of his fedora.

"I do," Faye murmured, turning on all her feminine charm.

He focused on the street again, but not before Faye caught his appreciative once-over. Faye chuckled. She was probably close to ten years older than the young officer (30 if you counted her time in deep-freeze), but it was somewhat satisfying to know she hadn't lost her charm.

But despite any attraction he might find in Faye, Jet had been right when he'd pegged the young ISSP officer as a sharp one. After calling in another favor with Bob, he'd gotten in touch with the officer, Malcolm Redd, for help in rescuing Leon. As it turned out, Malcolm owed Bob a favor or two, having had his humble beginnings in Bob's Ganymede ISSP division. On Bob's recommendation, the boy had been promoted and moved to Tharsis and from there, he'd been sent to infiltrate the White Tiger Syndicate, in a somewhat weak attempt to eradicate Syndicate activity. He managed to work himself into the good graces of the Tiger higher-ups, and now held a position as one of the mob bosses in the Tiger Syndicate. Which meant he knew about the Dragon gathering and he'd been invited. ISSP naturally, told him to go, because, as it turned out, they were hoping to set a potential sting on this gathering of the Syndicates. And when Jet told Bob about what had happened to Leon, Bob suggested they get in touch with Tharsis ISSP to see about a partnership.

As it turned out, ISSP was slightly less enthusiastic about the situation than Bob thought. They weren't really setting up a sting, more like a surveillance mission, but they didn't have any problem with Faye tagging along as Malcolm's plus one. And they promised that they'd be around for backup should the opportunity to catch the Syndicates present itself, but Faye wasn't holding out hope.

Malcolm, on the other hand, seemed like he'd probably be good for his word and get her into the Dragon's event without a hitch. So, she found herself draped on his arm in the midst of a group of White Tiger cronies, heading into the one place she vowed she'd never set foot, to rescue the son of the man she swore she'd never forgive. Not once in a million years.  _Well, everything happens at least once in a million years, doesn't it?_ Faye reflected ruefully. Why did it all have to happen now? Faye sighed. Her life was just one big coincidental mess - circumstances that never happened to anybody happened to her all the time. But Jet was right. She was responsible for the consequences of the circumstances she tipped with her own hand, whether she'd intended those consequences from the beginning or not. And Leon was in Dragon hands as a direct result of her actions, so it was only fair that she lent a hand in getting him out.

_You know, Spike,_  she thought, looking up at the brilliantly setting sun.  _If you're out there, watching, somewhere, I hope you see what I'm about to do for your son. Maybe then, you'll see me as more than just a selfish gambler with a big mouth and a habit of hanging you out to dry when the going got tough. Maybe then, you'll see me more like_ her.

"Faye."

She felt a gentle elbow in her ribs and suddenly realized that Malcolm had called her name a few times now.

"Faye."

"Hmm?" Faye looked back over at Malcolm, her vision somewhat dazzled by the last of the sun's rays.

"What are you doing, daydreaming?" Malcolm asked.

"Something like that," Faye admitted as she realized that they stood at the front steps of the Dragon tower.

"Well keep your wits about you, darling," he said, gesturing up at the Dragon tower. "Because tonight, we're sleeping in the Dragon's lair."

Faye resisted the urge to crane her neck and look up at the tower. Instead, she settled on looking a fraction bored, as she expected a rival Syndicate's girlfriend probably would be. She giggled coquettishly as they walked up the front steps and put her arm even more closely through Malcolm's.

"Oh, Maverick," she breathed, using the code name that the Tigers knew Malcolm by. "Isn't this all so exciting?"

She saw the Dragon guard stationed at the bottom of the grand staircase leading up into the tower roll his eyes at her obvious frivolousness and she nodded. Good. The more ostentatiously silly she could be, the more she'd fade like a bad dream when she disappeared from the crowds tomorrow. Malcolm told her there was supposed to be a feast tonight for the gathered Syndicates with gambling and drugs and all the alcohol money could buy. She was planning to use her time tonight to grease a few palms, souse a few guards, and hoard information like poker chips. This was what Faye Valentine was good at.

_Finally,_  Faye allowed herself a smile.  _Something that my years of gambling and bad habits has prepared me for._


	29. Session Twenty Nine

The fact that she knew where Leon was but couldn't get to him was driving her crazy. This mission would have been simple enough if she could waltz up to the eleventh floor, grab Leon, and jump out the nearest window onto the waiting  _Bebop._ But she couldn't. For a couple of reasons. One, she was here as Malcolm's plus one, so she had to keep up the illusion at least for the majority of the night. Two, Villanova was hosting dinner tonight and Faye would looksuspicious wandering the halls of the Tower while everybody else was at dinner (after all, you could only go so far while pretending to look for the bathroom). And three, Villanova had an impressive amount of guards posted in the Tower. If Ed was right (and Faye was sure she was), then the eleventh floor was off-limits to everybody tonight.

Of course it couldn't be that easy.

However, Faye had to admit Villanova knew how to throw a party. She hosted everyone in a grand ballroom on the seventh and eighth floors of the Tower. The ballroom spanned two stories, with a grand staircase leading down into the center of the room on one side.  Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, reminding Faye of The Ares. She shuddered.

"You want my coat?" Malcolm asked, mistaking her shiver for a chill.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," she said.

He gave her a look that said he didn't entirely believe her, but he didn't ask questions. If only he knew what he was in for, Faye thought.

Faye went back to surveying the room. All told, Villanova's party was relatively small for a gathering of the Snake, Tiger, and Dragon. Besides the leaders of each Syndicate, there were perhaps twenty-five or thirty people from each of the rival Syndicates present. Villanova had only about twenty ranked Dragon members in the room, but all the staff were hers, making the total Red Dragon count higher. Each Syndicate brought their own bodyguards as well, comprising about half of the attendance. The guards wore plain suits, with markings on the chest or arm, singling them out as Syndicate soldiers. They carried no visible weapons (not even the Dragon men) since Villanova had forbidden guns in the ballroom. But Faye was certain there was no shortage of hidden weapons in the room. So far, Faye hadn't seen either Draugh or Villanova, but, knowing them, she figured they would make a dramatic entrance later.

Everywhere she looked, the men and women in the ballroom were dressed to the nines and dripping money. Even Faye's white suit, which she'd bought off a particularly rewarding bounty a few years ago, paled in comparison to most of the outfits. There were men in suits that cost more than her  _Redtail_ and women in dresses that would buy a small apartment for a year. At least she wasn't the worst-dressed person in the room, Faye thought as she gave her feathered hat a jaunty tilt. With the wide brim and cascading plume covering most of her face, she could survey the ballroom without being too obvious. Plus, it lent her an air of the mysterious, which she always found helped loosen tongues and encourage rumors.

The ballroom was done up in attractive wood paneling, with red carpet accents and intricately patterned wood carvings on the walls. Several tables lined the upper floor, filled with delicate appetizers. Faye saw plates of sushi and calamari, dishes of cheese, sausages, and crackers, various styles of guacamole and fresh vegetables with all manner of dips and sauces. Villanova was pulling no stops tonight and she had the bar downstairs fully stocked and serving all manner of alcoholic drinks. So far, Faye noticed that all the Syndicate members were keeping close tabs on the number of drinks they had. The air was tense, even in the grandiose setting and she noticed more than a few shifty eyes watching the room for old enemies or new tricks.

"I don't think they enjoy being here," Faye whispered to Malcolm.

"As a general rule, the Syndicates don't get along," he agreed. "Gathering them all in one place is practically unheard of. But none of them dare miss it, because they're all afraid that if they do, they'll be one step behind their enemies. A fact I'm sure Villanova was counting on."

Faye nodded. She understood the principle well enough. "Right. Time to see what we can find out then. See if you can get any information on a special guest being entertained on the eleventh floor."

"The boy?" Malcolm mouthed.

Faye nodded slightly. She and Jet had briefed Malcolm on the situation before partnering with him, but they'd agreed not to use Leon's name in public at the Dragon Tower in order to keep suspicion down should someone overhear them. For the same reason, she and Jet agreed she wouldn't wear a com to dinner tonight, since the Syndicates were probably watching for bugged intruders. The fact that all three rival Syndicates were in one place tonight would have all of their bodyguards and security on high alert. Faye figured it was better to ride as low on the radar as possible for now so that they'd have better chances of getting to Leon undetected tomorrow.

"I'll see what I can find out," Malcolm said, giving her a slight tilt of his hat.

"I'll see you in half an hour." Faye winked and blew Malcolm a kiss, as he joined an  _hors d'oeuvres_  table with a few other gentlemen. They greeted him as Maverick and he struck up a conversation.

Faye headed downstairs to investigate the gaming tables and dance floor. She kept her eye out for a man who looked lonely and was rewarded after a few seconds by a tall man leaning on the bar with no companion in sight. He wasn't one of the White Tiger members that Malcolm hastily introduced her to earlier tonight. He was more lanky than muscular, in a dark suit with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had a narrow face, looked to be about fifty, and watched the room through hooded eyes so dark they might have been black. His navy tie and sapphire cufflinks betrayed his allegiance to the Blue Snake, which meant Faye could safely ply him for information without blowing her cover. Faye walked up to the bar and ordered two martinis, noticing that the man didn't have a glass in front of him.

Once she got the drinks, she walked up and slid one to the man coyly. "What's a handsome man like you doing here all alone?" Faye asked.

The man looked over at her, and for a moment, Faye thought he wouldn't respond, but then the corner of his mouth quirked up and a smile lit his eyes as he looked her over. "I might ask the same of such a gorgeous lady," he said, accepting the drink.

"Well, you know how the White Tiger boys are. Always talking business and competing with each other. I got tired of all the posturing. I came looking for the company of someone...with a little more character." Faye let her gaze settle briefly on the man's immaculately pressed suit and the flash of the cufflinks at his wrist.

"So you came with the Tiger, Ms. …?"

"Ion," Faye said, extending her hand.

He took it gently and brought it to his lips. "A pleasure, Ms. Ion." He smiled, briefly showing pointed teeth. "My name is Asheteko, a member of the Blue Snake."

"How exotic," Faye smiled up at him. He released her hand and she took a sip of her martini. "So, Asheteko, do you know why we're all here tonight?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I believe that Ms. Villanova said she had something to show the rest of the Syndicates. A show we would not soon forget, was how she phrased it."

"What do you think she meant by that?" Faye asked.

"I know she's marketing a new drug in the streets. If that is all she called us here for, I will be sorely disappointed. I've seen this new stuff - this Dragon's Eye, she calls it - " he paused and shrugged. "And it is nothing more than glorified Red Eye. It will turn a profit, certainly, but the recipe can be stolen for the right price, I am sure."

Faye was surprised that Asheteko talked so freely in front of the bartender, who was obviously a member of the Red Dragon. But then again, half of the Syndicates' power came through threats, blackmail, and posturing. Making such bold claims may have just been his way of showing that the Snake wasn't afraid of the Dragon. He probably said it on purpose, knowing that the bartender would report to Villanova.

"Of course," Faye agreed, thinking that Asheteko didn't know the half of it. "But I've also heard rumors." She leaned in close like was telling a secret. Asheteko automatically leaned in closer as well. "I've heard that Villanova has Spiegel in her custody."

"Spike?" Asheteko asked, a note of awe in his voice. Faye chalked one up for herself on her mental scoreboard. She'd found someone who had known Spike back in his Syndicate days. "He's been dead for fifteen years." Asheteko's tone brooked no argument.

"That's what I think too," Faye said conspiratorially, feeling the sting of the words in her chest as she said them. "But she says she's got him alive."

"There's no way," Asheteko said, visibly shaken. "We all saw the destruction." He sounded more as if he were talking to himself than to Faye.

"What does it mean if he is alive?" Faye asked quietly.

Asheteko gave her a calculating glance, as if deciding how much to tell her.

"You did not know him when he was alive, did you?"

"I heard rumors," Faye said, feeling the ache in her chest grow bigger. Talking about Spike like she barely knew him felt like betrayal, but her carefully placed mask of confidence didn't slip. That was one thing she'd had enough practice with to be sure of.

"He was the best," Asheteko said simply. "If he truly is alive, perhaps he faked his death to leave the Syndicates behind. It would not be the first time that he did such a thing," Asheteko shrugged. "But if the Dragon caught him, it means he has lost his edge. It means either he tried to stop them again and failed, or they got the drop on him. It means the Dragon is stronger than any of us thought."

Faye took another sip of her martini to hide her expression. Then Villanova had been right. If she could really convince the Syndicates that Leon was Spike, she'd be asserting a dominance greater than Yenrai. As far as Faye knew, Spike was the only person in the galaxy who had ever single-handedly destroyed a Syndicate. He was a legend. A legacy. If Villanova could destroy that, then she would destroy everything Spike stood for. She would destroy any sign of weakness and rise to the top of the the Syndicates again. She would destroy Spike and all that remained of him in one go, just like he did to the Dragon. But there was no way Spike could rebuild. If Leon was lost, so was Spike's memory and everything Faye had been fighting for.

"You seem very quiet, Ms. Ion," Asheteko said, sipping from his martini.

"I'm sorry," Faye said, giving him a smile. "I was just thinking that Villanova must be very crafty to pull all this off."

"Aye, she is." Asheteko nodded. "Though I believe she would do well to remember that she leads a fledgling Syndicate and not an experienced guild. She may have fire, but the snake has wisdom." Asheteko drained his glass and set it on the bar beside Faye's now empty glass.

"And now, Ms. Ion, would you excuse me? I do believe our hostess has arrived and the Snake wishes to bid her a most warm welcome."

Faye followed Asheteko's eyes to the top of the staircase where Villanova had just entered, on the arm of Draugh, clad in a dress made of red and gold material that flowed as she moved so that she almost appeared as if she were on fire. Her hair was spiked tonight, resembling a dragon's crest, and while Faye was certain she'd look ridiculous with such a hairstyle, it made Villanova look fierce. Beside her, Draugh looked almost plain in his night-black suit and red shirt, but there was a quiet power that oozed from him that Faye had rarely seen in her few encounters with him.

Faye slipped away from the bar. It was time she find Malcolm again and fall back under the illusion of the attractive and empty-headed Tiger's girl.

* * *

Dinner was a tense affair and Faye was glad when she and Malcolm finally retired to their room for the night. She'd stayed away from Villanova as much as possible during dinner, and her disguise seemed to have held. When Malcolm introduced her to Villanova, there'd been no sign of recognition from the Dragon leader. Faye knew she was crafty, but she was pretty sure Villanova would have a tell if she recognized her and Faye had seen nothing. In fact, Villanova had barely given her the time of day when they met. She'd been much more impressed with Malcolm, but that made sense. With his 'ambition' within the Tiger, he'd be catching eyes from the rival Syndicates.

Faye sat in a chair in the bedroom she and Malcolm shared, already changed out of her pantsuit and into a white silk robe embroidered with a gold tiger over a tank top and shorts. Malcolm had given it to her earlier to further her disguise, but she hoped she'd get to keep it when all this was over. Not only was it glamorous, but it was comfortable and it would make a great addition to her wardrobe.

Just then, Malcolm came out of the bathroom wearing a pair of white silk pants that matched her robe, with a gold tiger embroidered on the right leg. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his brown hair was somewhat tousled, falling over one eye. Faye stared at his well-muscled figure a moment longer than she meant to. The young ISSP officer was handsome. He caught her staring and gave her a wink. Faye found herself blushing as he dropped onto the couch in front of her. He reached into the pocket of his suit coat, which was draped over the arm of the couch, and pulled out a silver cigarette case. He snapped it open and laid it on the coffee table between them, pulling out a cigarette and offering it to Faye. She accepted it and he pulled one out for himself, then grabbed a lighter out of his suit coat as well. He lit Faye's cigarette, then his own before speaking.

"We can talk without worrying about them overhearing us now." He gestured at the cigarette case. "This little piece of tech will scramble any bugs they've planted in the room. I can't do anything about the security cameras, so they can still see us, but we can talk freely."

Faye took a second glance at the case as she let out a smoky breath. "ISSP's upped their gadgets," she said appreciatively.

"Nah," Malcolm laughed. "This baby is Tiger tech."

Faye chuckled. "I should have known."

"Despite all their flaws, the Syndicates do have their moments," Malcolm said, leaning back and stretching his arms across the back of the couch. "So, what did you find out from Asheteko?"

"You saw me talking to him?"

Malcolm nodded. "I was a bit surprised you went straight for the Snake leader."

"He's the head of the Snake?" Faye asked, eyes widening slightly.

Malcolm nodded again.

Faye replayed her conversation with Asheteko in her head, making sure she hadn't said anything that would give her away. Now that she knew his position within the Snake, some of his comments made more sense. "Well, he certainly seems impressed with Villanova," Faye finally said. "He also made it clear that the Snake wasn't intimidated by the Dragon. But from the way he was talking, if Villanova succeeds in recreating Spike tomorrow, she'll pull more sway with the Syndicates than any crime boss before her."

Malcolm smoked for a moment in silence. "Spike must've been one hell of a guy to hold this much sway over the Syndicates."

"He was," Faye agreed.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue, but she left it at that.

"Well, I guess we oughta call your friends, then," he said after a minute.

"Yeah." Faye pulled her phone out of the pocket of her robe and punched in Jet's number. She laid the phone on the table, but kept the screen blank so that anyone watching couldn't tell who she and Malcolm were talking to.

Jet picked up after two rings.

"Did you find anything?" he asked.

"A few things, yeah," Faye said.

"A few things is better than no things," Ed chipped in. Jet had patched her through from the hospital.

Malcolm chuckled. He'd briefly met Jet and Ed over the phone before teaming up with Faye. Jet had been surprised that Malcolm had already known him by reputation.

"What, you thought Bob never talked about you, old man?" Malcolm had asked.

"Well, no," Jet had admitted, rubbing his head. "I just didn't think I was still talked about that much."

"Everyone who's anyone in ISSP still knows about the Black Dog. Besides, even if they don't remember your police days, you're pretty famous as a bounty hunter."

Jet had chuckled at that while Ed whooped in the background. "We're famous!"

But Malcolm had taken to the team quickly and Faye was glad they seemed to have someone to trust again.

"So, what did you find, Faye?" Jet asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Well, for starters, Villanova certainly doesn't have a shortage of wulongs at her disposal," Faye said. "Either her drug is doing very well, or she's got some serious money laundering going on. We should be prepared for anything tomorrow. If this dinner's anything to go by, she'll have all sorts of defenses up around the tower."

"That's what I was afraid of," Jet said.

Faye sat back and smoked for a minute. "But that's what Ed's for, right?"

"Yup!" Ed crowed. "Leave the defenses to Ed. Ed can take them offline in a wink." Faye imagined Ed winking to emphasize her point.

"And then I can get the Bebop close for extraction," Jet said. "That part's not the problem. The problem is figuring out when to swap you out with Leon."

Malcolm leaned forward. "I think I can help with that one."

"Shoot," Jet told him.

"I learned from a couple of Dragon guys tonight that whatever Villanova is planning is supposed to go down at noon tomorrow. I've spent some time studying the Dragon Tower maps and I'd bet that she'll either gather us all in the ballroom again or the conference room on the tenth floor. Either way, they'll have to move Leon from the eleventh floor for whatever their plan is. My guess is that they'll put him in a holding room somewhere nearby so that they can bring him out quickly when Villanova plans to reveal him. More dramatic that way. So what we need to do is figure out where they're putting him and have Faye swap places before the reveal, but after they've moved him. That way, there's less time and people to discover Faye's plot before the reveal."

There was silence on the other side for a minute and Faye could imagine Jet nodding. Then, when she and Malcolm didn't respond, he spoke. "That sounds plausible. Malcolm, you think too much like a Syndicate man."

Malcolm snorted. "Hardly. I'm just thinking a few steps ahead."

"But you're right," Faye said. "Ed, you can keep an eye on wherever they move Leon, right?"

"Yup!"

"Is there anywhere in the tower you can't see?"

"Um, the bathrooms," Ed said.

Malcolm laughed. "I don't think they're going to hold him in a bathroom."

Faye gave him a glare.

He sobered up, but there was a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Right then," Faye said. "So all we have to do is get Ed to watch Leon's progress tomorrow. Then, when Ed sees them move Leon, Malcolm and I come up with an excuse to get me out of Villanova's meeting. According to the itinerary she gave everybody at dinner tonight, we're all supposed to meet again tomorrow at 10:30. That gives us an hour and a half to make our move."

"Give or take," Jet said. "You know that this is probably going to go down in typical  _Bebop_ fashion."

Faye took a draw on her cigarette. "I'm planning on it," she said.

"Is that good or bad?" Malcolm asked.

"That depends on how you're looking at it," Ed said. "Lots of things go boom and wulongs go bye-bye, but we always make it out alive in the end."

Malcolm ran a hand through his hair. "At least, that's the goal, anyway," he said quietly.


	30. Session Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I skipped a week in updating! Sorry! Here's two chapters to get back on track ;)

So this is what it felt like to wait on death. Leon felt strangely detached, like he was watching the events of someone else's life instead of living his own. His thoughts were scattered, jumping from one to another without spending much time on anything. He lay on his back on the couch in the suite, tossing his lighter back and forth from hand to hand. He wondered if Villanova left him the lighter on purpose. Maybe she didn't even know he had it. After all, it was Draugh who gave it to him. But why? He hadn't bothered to give him any cigarettes to go with it. He supposed he could set something in the room on fire with it, but he didn't see the point. It wouldn't help him escape. He'd been locked in sometime last night after dinner. So if he set a fire and someone didn't open his door for him, then he'd be lighting his own death sentence. Which might initially ruin Villanova's plans, but she'd work around it. After all, he'd be dead, and that's what she ultimately wanted. He still knew with a cold certainty that he wouldn't give in to Villanova by killing himself, but the thought seemed void of emotion now, something he knew like he knew his own name.

He watched the arc of the lighter as it hit its highest point and tumbled back into his hand. His periphery had come back, like Draugh said it would. He was distantly satisfied that his hand-eye coordination hadn't suffered. In fact, it almost seemed as if he could see the lighter more clearly than before, but perhaps that was the result of extreme boredom. He caught it in his right hand and lit it, watching the little flame flicker and waver. It was a small thing, easily snuffed out by anything stronger than a breath. It wasn't even all that hot by itself. He'd often played with it, licking his fingers and running them through the fire. He flicked the lighter closed, extinguishing the flame.

He felt like the flame himself - small, ineffective, easily blown out. He hadn't heard anything from Jet or seen any further sign of Faye. He'd half-hoped she'd turn up in his room last night and tell him that Jet was waiting for them outside, but the night passed without a visit from anyone. Leon woke up this morning in the same place he'd fallen asleep, still dressed, spread-eagled on the bed where he realized he'd been waiting for a rescue.

He'd exhausted his own options of saving himself. Villanova had been nothing if not thorough in removing anything that he might use to his advantage from the room. There were no sharp objects, nothing heavy enough to be a weapon that was light enough to carry. Nothing he could use for rope except his sheets, but he was too far off the ground to attempt climbing down the outside of the tower. There were no vents big enough to crawl through and nothing metal that he could bend into a lock pick. All his silverware was delivered with his meals and fastidiously counted when his dishes were removed. The mirror in the bathroom and all the windows were shatter-proof so he couldn't break them to create a shard "knife." He couldn't do anything but wait.

Is this how his father felt, hiding from the claws of the Dragon, waiting for them to close when he least expected it? Is this why he took the fight to the Dragon, instead of waiting for the trap to spring on him? Leon thought he understood what Spike had been feeling. Something empty and angry and dead. Something that demanded a fight. He needed the release of adrenaline, the satisfaction of inflicting pain on his enemies - anything to distract him from this cold emptiness.

Just then, he heard the lock turn on the door and it opened to reveal Draugh and a stern red-headed woman in a black security outfit with a red dragon embroidered on the left sleeve. Leon sat up.

Draugh walked into the room. "It's time," he said, but he didn't meet Leon's eye. He motioned for Leon to follow.

Leon got up. Dread settled cold and hard in the pit of his stomach. But that too felt distant somehow, like it was happening to someone else. His voice when he spoke was hard and steady. "I'm ready."

Draugh met his eye then and there was a new expression on his face. Respect, perhaps? Surprise? Leon wasn't sure what was going on behind the Dragon lieutenant's gray gaze.

The red-headed woman stepped up with a pair of handcuffs, but Draugh waved a hand at her.

"That won't be necessary, Captain Servas. He'll follow."

Servas frowned and gave Leon a long look, but she put the handcuffs away and stood behind Leon.

"Walk with me," Draugh said to Leon.

Leon fell into step behind Draugh, stepping up beside him after they walked through the door. Draugh and Servas didn't try to stop him. Leon snuck a glance at Draugh from under the fringe of his hair. Draugh looked stern, but there was a tightness to his mouth that hadn't been there before. Like he was doing something unpleasant. Draugh had been talkative before. Maybe he'd answer a few questions now.

"So, where are you taking me?" Leon asked. Some part of him was surprised that he sounded so calm.

"You don't need to know," Servas answered crisply.

Leon turned around and walked backwards for a minute, giving her his most charming grin. "Ah, Captain Servas. I don't believe we've been properly introduced." He stuck a hand out.

She gave him a disdainful look down her nose. "We don't need to be," she said. "I know who you are well enough. Now turn around."

Leon felt his heart sink but he kept a smile on his face until his back was to Servas again. Draugh pointedly looked ahead and didn't answer Leon. Leon fell silent for the rest of the walk.

He followed Draugh into the elevator. Servas took up a position at the door, as if Leon might try to bolt when they reached their destination. She was on edge. By her rank of Captain, Leon assumed she must be in charge of security at the Dragon Tower. And with all three syndicates in the tower, and the possibility of him becoming a loose cannon should anything go wrong, her concern was understandable. Leon leaned casually against the back of the elevator and held Servas' gaze until she looked away. He smirked. She thought he was dangerous. That made him feel a little better even though it was far from true right now. Servas openly carried a gun and Leon had no doubt Draugh was armed. He wasn't about to start a fist fight with two armed Dragons.

The elevator traveled down to the sixth floor and came to a gentle stop. Leon was relieved that the travel didn't make him nauseous this time. Much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to get used to the cybernetic eye. The elevator doors opened and Servas stepped out, waiting until Draugh and Leon took the lead again. Leon resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at her and stuck his hands in his pockets instead. He tried to ignore the itch between his shoulder blades that let him know she was staring him down. Draugh led them through a plain door marked _employees_ into what looked like service corridors. They wound their way through the corridors, heading towards the middle of the tower. The only people they passed looked like housekeepers or waiters and they all saluted at the sight of Draugh and kept walking without saying anything. Eventually, they reached an intersection of three hallways and Draugh took them to the right to a black steel door. Leon noticed that this floor didn't seem to have the circular hole in the center like the eleventh floor did, but he hadn't been allowed to venture this far down when he tried to explore yesterday. Draugh opened the door with a key he pulled from his pocket, then motioned for Leon to step inside.

Leon walked into a room that reminded him of the holding cell back on the Bebop, but without bars. The room was small, Leon could walk its length in ten steps. The floor was inset slightly and there were four tracks set into the walls so that the floor could rise up along them. The ceiling was jointed, as if it opened up, and the lights in the room were on the wall instead of in the ceiling. So the room was an elevator of sorts then. But Leon didn't see any controls anywhere, so it wasn't a room one was meant to control from the inside. A prison.

Servas gave him an impatient shove in the back when he didn't immediately step farther into the room. Leon kept his balance and walked forward, straightening his jacket as he did so. Servas followed him in.

"Stand there," she said, pointing at a spot near the center of the room. The lights on the walls were bright, and aimed to point at the spot Servas told him to stand. Leon walked over and stood in the light.

"Arms up," Servas instructed.

Leon cast a glance at Draugh, who stood in the doorway. He thought he saw the older man nod faintly. He held his arms up.

Servas briefly and efficiently patted him down. She found his lighter and pulled it out of his pocket, putting it into her own. Leon opened his mouth to protest, but she gave him such an intense glare he decided against it.

"Arms down," she said. "And hold still."

"Hold still?" Leon asked, but she didn't answer him. Instead, she pulled a small case out of a pouch at her belt and motioned Draugh into the room. He walked in and she handed him the case, opening it up as she did so. It was a makeup case. Leon looked at it, puzzled.

"Close your eyes," Servas said.

"What? I am not - "

Servas cut him off with a backhand so stiff he stumbled back a step, eyes watering. He straightened up, hands balled into fists, and gave Servas the darkest glare he could muster, the left side of his face stinging. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to fight back and he trembled with the effort of restraining himself. Fighting back would do him no good right now. He took a long, steady breath and exhaled.

"That's right, Mr. Spiegel. You will do as you are told and if you don't, then I will use force. Now, will you cooperate?"

Leon looked at her tight-lipped, but he didn't move.

"Good. Now close your eyes."

This time he did as he was told. A second later he felt a brush against his face and realized that Servas was putting makeup on him. Villanova's words came floating back to him. _You've already got the height, build, and hair to be your father's twin. I can fix your age with makeup and some lighting._

Leon stood still until Servas finished and told him he could open his eyes. He wanted to know what she'd done to him, but she didn't offer him a mirror and he wasn't about to stoop so low as to ask. Instead, Servas neatly packed her case again, and put it back into the pouch on her belt. Then she looked back up at Leon.

"You are to remain here until further notice, Mr. Spiegel," she said, scowling like he was something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Then she spun on her heel to walk out of the room, but Draugh had moved so that he stood slightly behind her and she spun into him, bumping up against him.

"My apologies, Captain," Draugh said smoothly, giving her a little bow. Servas glared at him too as if he were the cause of all her troubles, then stalked out of the room without waiting on him to follow.

"You'll have to excuse the good Captain," Draugh said. "She's not usually this rude, but you can probably understand why she's so on edge."

"I see my reputation precedes me," Leon said dryly.

Draugh looked at him seriously. "It does, boy. And that's dangerous." His tone was sober.

Leon didn't know what to say to that.

Draugh turned and began to walk away.

"Hey," Leon said just as Draugh reached the door. He hated the desperate tone in his voice. But some of his earlier numbness had worn off and he could feel his heart thud in his chest again so hard it hurt.

Draugh stopped and turned. "Yes?" he asked.

"You got a cigarette?" Leon asked. There were a million more things he wanted to say. Like what should he expect? And how were they going to kill him? And where was the Bebop? And what did Servas do to his face? But the only weakness his brain would allow him to admit was the desperate need for something to occupy his hands. If Draugh left him to his own devices in this room, Leon wasn't sure he could handle it.

Draugh paused for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "Here, kid." He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered it to Leon. Leon was about to pull one out, but Draugh waved the pack at him. "You'll want more than one," he said. Leon paused for a second, then shrugged and took the pack.

Draugh reached into his pocket again and pulled out Leon's silver lighter. He held it out. Leon's eyes widened slightly in admiration. Draugh had pick-pocketed Servas when he got in her way. Leon felt a slight tinge of respect for Draugh's obviously skilled fingers. But then he frowned and grabbed the lighter. He shouldn't feel any respect for the man. He was Dragon. And he was part of this crazy plot to kill him. But still - he'd given him his lighter twice. Did that mean something? And back in the temple, Draugh had told him that he wanted to recruit him, not kill him. Was that a hint? Or was Leon just desperately looking for anything that might mean he had a chance?

Leon realized Draugh was pulling the door closed behind him now. Just before it shut, he turned back toward the room. "Good luck, son," he said. Then he shut the door firmly behind him.

Leon blinked. Draugh had just called him son. Not kid. Not boy. Not Leon. Son. People didn't typically call their arch-nemesis son. Was Draugh feeling last regrets? Leon stared at the door for a long moment after Draugh left. The lights in the room dimmed until Leon only saw shadows. He shook his head. It was all wishful thinking, he told himself. He couldn't let himself get false hopes. The reality was he was stuck in this room and he was alone. And he would face death with his eyes open and his mind clear, damn it. There wasn't time to worry about whether or not Draugh meant anything by his words.

Leon walked into the center of the room and turned so that his back was toward the door then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a deep draw and felt the smoke fill his lungs, then exhaled and waited.

* * *

_They've moved him._ Ed's voice came quietly in Faye's ear.

"Ten-four, Ed," Faye murmured. Faye and Malcolm were sitting in the back row of a set of stadium-style seating Villanova had erected in the ballroom for her demonstration this morning. The seats ringed the floor on three sides, with gaps between the raised tiers for the doors. On the fourth side of the room, in front of the staircase leading to the upper level of the ballroom, was a raised platform with a throne-like chair on the center of it. Villanova sat in the throne, looking feral and relaxed, her elbow propped on the armrest, chin in hand as she surveyed the room. Her hair was swept back out of her face today, and she was impeccably dressed in a military uniform with a set of Dragon medals pinned to her lapel. What they'd been awarded to her for was anyone's guess. Draugh had been sitting in a second throne to her right, but he left the room about twenty minutes ago and had yet to return. Moving Leon, Faye guessed, since his movement coincided with Ed's intel.

Faye reached up and made sure her wig covered her ear for the millionth time. She and Malcolm had thrown caution to the wind this morning and wore receivers in their ears so they could talk to each other, Ed and Jet. Faye knew that it would be impossible to carry out their mission without communication, but she still felt like the little piece of tech in her ear was screaming to be noticed.

"You keep doing that and you'll pull all the hair out of that wig," Malcolm muttered on her other side, so low his voice was just a breath against her ear. "Trust me." He reached over and tapped the pearl bracelet on Faye's right wrist. Malcolm had given it to her this morning to go with the pale blue dress she'd chosen for today. Another piece of Tiger tech, the bracelet was actually made of tiny disruptors that formed a small "force field" of undiscoverable energy around Faye, making her invisible to any sensors searching for tech. Malcolm wore a similar device in the guise of a pair of pearl cufflinks. If the Dragon tried to run an electronics scan on either of them, the receivers in their ears wouldn't show up. Faye still felt nervous every time a Dragon guard looked her way.

She leaned back toward Malcolm and whispered. "It's time."

"I heard," he mouthed. He tapped her leg with three fingers. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of sitting still and pretending like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Enough time to let Faye's next move look like happenstance instead of a planned coincidence. Security would keep a tight watch for anything out of the ordinary for the next several minutes. After all, they'd just moved Villanova's most valuable playing piece and they'd take steps to make sure Leon remained secure. She and Malcolm had to give security enough time to feel safe again so that they could get to where Leon was being held. Faye glanced down at her watch. She'd picked a diamond studded wristwatch to go with her dress this morning. One that Jet had nearly killed her over when he found out how much it cost. Faye allowed herself a small smile. At least she could justify buying it now. The hands pointed to 11:00 am. Faye allowed herself a deep breath. Thirty minutes would put them at 11:30 and, from what Malcolm had said yesterday, Villanova's grand reveal would be at noon. That gave them only thirty minutes to execute their plan and get Leon out of the way before the reveal.

Faye turned her eyes back to the front of the room and focused again on the Dragon lieutenant (not Draugh) who was giving everyone a quick history on the Dragon and a demonstration of Dragon's Eye. While most of the Tiger and Snake members looked bored as the lieutenant outlined the Dragon's past exploits (after all, any of them older than 30 already knew about them), they were significantly more interested in the Dragon's Eye demonstration Villanova arranged. She had two men standing in the center of the room, inside the ring of seats occupied by the Syndicate members. Both were muscular men, shirtless and shoeless and wearing loose pants, like one might wear to practice martial arts. After describing the properties of both Dragon's Eye and Red Eye, the lieutenant would give each man a dose of their respective drug and then the two men would fight, showing off the qualities of the drug they were given.

Villanova watched her lieutenant with an almost hungry expression, but she kept her posture relaxed. Her eye roamed over the crowds and once or twice, Faye could swear she looked straight at her. The fact that she and Malcolm hadn't already been caught seemed like some sort of miracle. Faye was hoping that uncanny good luck held out. Just a little longer.

Faye glanced back down at her watch. 11:05. She sighed. It was going to be a long twenty-five minutes.

* * *

 

"Where is that, Ed?" Jet asked, peering over her shoulder at a room on Tomato's screen. He picked her up from the hospital earlier today, knowing that there wouldn't be much time to try and get her after their escape from the Dragon Tower. A very frazzled nurse handed Jet the discharge forms and barely waited for him to read them before handing Ed over. In the end, Jet promised to send money to replace the nursing station Ed took over. It's not that Ed had destroyed the nurse's computers, exactly, but she'd plugged them into Tomato and her strange search program and now the nurses couldn't get any of their data back. Ed promised it wasn't missing and, sure enough, they found all their records intact by accessing the system from another nursing station, but Jet was now the proud owner of three slightly used, former nurses computers and a rapidly shrinking bounty. Jet shook his head and looked back at Tomato. One thing at a time, Jet, he told himself. Get Leon first, then you can worry about the bank.

"Dragon Tower, sixth floor," Ed said, zooming in on the blueprints she pulled up on a screen next to Tomato. "It's right under the ballroom, so you could lift it up and ka-pow!" She made a motion like a box opening. "Right through the floor!"

Jet took a closer look at the screen and the tiny room Ed displayed. She'd re-hacked the Dragons surveillance system after moving all her new-found computers to the Bebop. He felt a surge of relief as he noticed Leon in the room. He was standing in the center of the room, hands by his sides, with his back to the camera. But even without seeing his face, Jet could sense the tightness in his spine and the desperation he must be feeling. Leon had been in Dragon custody for three days now without any contact from the Bebop. Even for a kid with as much confidence as Leon had, Jet knew that doubt would be grating on him. And, if he was anything like Spike, he'd be shoving the doubt deeper behind a cold wall. Jet shook his head and looked around the room Leon was in. "It's an elevator," he said, noticing the gears and tracks set into the walls. He rubbed his chin. Villanova obviously didn't build the elevator for Leon specifically, but this certainly fit into her pattern for the dramatic.

"Yup," Ed murmured. "And it comes up…" she hit a few keys and the picture changed so that she and Jet were looking at the lower floor of the ballroom. They could see Faye and Malcolm in the back left corner of the room, sitting at the top of a set of raised bleacher-type seats that formed a semi-circle around the room, with gaps for the rooms' doors. It made the ballroom look horribly reminiscent of a coliseum. "Here." Ed pointed at the center of the ballroom, to the open space in the center of the bleachers where two men were squaring off for a fight. The elevator room would put whoever was in it right in the center of the gathered Syndicates, and only a few feet off the stage that had been erected for Villanova and Draugh.

"That doesn't look good," Jet said.

"Jet can say that again," Ed agreed. "Are we sure Faye Faye's plan is going to work?" Jet gave Ed a sidelong look.

"It sure as hell better work or we're screwed."

"Jeeettt, you're supposed to say stuff like 'It will all work out, Ed, you'll see.'" Ed crossed her arms and lowered her voice, glowering in an imitation of Jet.

"Hey, I don't look that angry all the time," Jet muttered. "But, you're right, Ed, it'll all work out. Besides, we do have some back up on this one."

"ISSP?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, ISSP," Jet said, crossing his fingers behind his back that they actually came. It's not that ISSP was bad at what they did, it was just that they were incredibly slow to do it. That's one of the reasons Jet left the force. They'd become so inundated with lazy officers and corrupt bureaucrats that by the time ISSP got themselves in gear and actually showed up to solve a problem, the problem had run off and caused at least ten more problems. Jet found that he could stop criminals way faster as an independent bounty hunter and he had more resources at hand than he did as an ISSP man. That, and nobody cared that he employed a hacker. But maybe, just maybe, Malcolm would be enough to sway ISSP to get themselves in gear and -

"Jet, Jet!" Ed was tugging on his sleeve. "There they go! It's time to get Leo back!" Ed crowed, pointing at the screen. Jet looked down to see Faye stand up and stagger, putting a hand to her stomach. Beside her, Malcolm stood up, looking worried and gesturing for people to get out of the way. Jet smiled despite himself. "It's time, indeed, Ed."


	31. Session Thirty One

"Alright, Ed, give me five minutes," Faye said.

After causing a scene in the ballroom by pretending to be sick, Faye and Malcolm made an ungraceful exit while Malcolm loudly announced that Faye drank too much last night and was still suffering the effects. The guards gave her looks of disgust and a wide berth as she puffed out her cheeks and pretended to gag. As soon as they were outside the ballroom, they ran for the nearest bathroom - the only rooms in the Dragon Tower that didn't have cameras. Faye slipped off the pearl bracelet and tossed it into a nearby potted plant as she ran. Although she felt naked without the protective field, it blocked Ed from using remote access to track her through her earpiece just as much as it blocked the Dragon from finding her. And now that the plan was in motion, she needed Ed's backup more than she needed safety.

Faye threw open the door to the bathroom where she had stashed a large purse earlier. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty so she dropped her sick act. She walked over to the the stall where she left her purse and pushed on the door. Still locked. Good. No one had messed with it. She shimmied under the door while Malcolm kept watch in the hall, looking worried for his "sick girlfriend." Her purse still hung on the inside of the stall door.

Faye slithered out of her dress and shoes in almost the same motion, leaving them lying on the bathroom floor. She winced as the blue silk crumpled to the floor, but she'd just have to leave the dress. There wasn't any way to carry it with her. Faye pulled an old pair of Spike's slacks and a familiar yellow button-up out of the purse and began getting dressed. She pulled on a bulletproof vest before she put on the shirt, a precaution Jet convinced her take in case something went horribly wrong. They were banking on the fact that Villanova would be so stunned at the transformation, she wouldn't immediately shoot Faye, but that was assuming the method for killing Leon was by gunshot. Thinking of death only made Faye go faster.

After she got the suit on, she pulled an eyepatch out of the purse and slipped it over her left eye, then she grabbed a fedora and put it on, tucking her hair under the hat. She stashed a brown, curly wig, a small makeup bag, and Malcolm's ISSP badge and pistol in the pockets of the trench-coat. Lastly, she grabbed the pair of special shoes she and Jet worked on last night. They looked normal from the outside, but they had inserts in them that added to Faye's height so that she stood nearly as tall as Leon. She put the shoes on, stuffed her dress and party shoes back into the purse and commed Ed. "Alright, Ed, how'd I do?

_Three minutes and forty-eight seconds._

Faye smiled at her own quick change.

"How much time do I have to get out of here?" she asked. Ed wasn't able to completely cut all the security cameras from her remote access on the  _Bebop,_ and the crew didn't want to raise that much suspicion yet anyway, but she could scramble camera feeds so that they showed a different image than what was actually going on. Faye heard Ed mutter something under her breath and then she gave an exclamation of delight.

_You're all clear, Faye Faye! You've got two minutes to get out of the hall before the camera picks up normal feed again._

"Alright, thanks, Ed." Faye stepped out of the bathroom and met Malcolm in the hall.

Malcolm whistled, impressed.

"I've never seen anyone change that fast," he said.

"You've never seen me change before then," Faye quipped. With the shoes on, she was eye to eye with Malcolm.

Malcolm chuckled as she pulled his ISSP badge and pistol out of the trench coat and handed them to him. He pinned the badge to the inside of his jacket so that it wasn't immediately visible and slid the pistol into a shoulder holster also under his jacket.

"I'm going to call in back-up now," he said. "I've got enough proof to convince even the laziest bureaucrat. But I'll keep pacing in the hall for a few more minutes so that everyone will think you're still in the bathroom puking."

"Ha ha, thanks," Faye said dryly. "You think ISSP'll really come?" she asked.

"They better. Or I'm going to be a sitting duck in a few minutes," Malcolm said. "But I've got this," he pulled a pen from his suit pocket and pressed the cap. A recorded version of Villanova's speech from earlier began playing.

_Ladies and Gentlemen, I've called you here today to witness the rise of the Syndicates. To witness the rebirth of the Red Dragon and to usher in an era of Syndicate reign that we haven't seen in over twenty years. And we're doing it all under ISSP's crooked nose._ Some scattered cheering followed and Malcolm turned off the recorder. "Once Captain Gunnel hears this, he'll have to send men in. He won't have a choice. This constitutes a planetary threat."

"That's what Jet kept trying to tell ISSP back when he worked for them," Faye said.

"I wish they'd listened to him," Malcolm grumbled.

Faye nodded. "Yeah. Now I'm going to find Leon," she said, making sure her receiver was still secure in her ear after her change.

"I'll give you a few minutes head start, then I'll call the Captain. Tell Leon to com me when you bust him out. Then we'll get Jet and we'll be back in for you."

Faye nodded, not trusting herself to speak anymore. Then she turned and headed down the hall, affecting a limp in her right leg. "Alright, Ed, give me directions," Faye said.

_At the end of this hall, you're going to take a right,_ Ed said.  _You've got thirty more seconds of hidden time, but as soon as you turn the corner, you'll be on camera again. There's some sneaky sneaky secret halls you're going to take, ok?_

"Gotcha," Faye said, breaking into a fast lope. She didn't see anyone in the hall yet, but she kept her senses alert for any noise or footsteps. She would slow and affect the limp again when she heard anyone. But she only passed a few housekeepers on her way. She had a story cooked up in case anyone asked who she was - she was a Tiger lieutenant that had come late - and she planned to make a fuss about the lax security at the Tower if anyone made an accusation that they hadn't seen her come in. But the housekeepers she passed all kept their heads down and went about their business without a second glance in her direction. She took a right at the end of the hall like Ed told her.

_Ok, Faye Faye, at the end of this hall, there's a door. It says "employees" on it. Take that."_

"I see it," Faye murmured.

_Ed's got the camera off in five...four...three...two...one...go!_

Faye pushed open the employee door at Ed's signal and slipped inside. After guiding her around a few more turns, Ed told her to take the right-hand corridor and led Faye to a black steel door.

_He's in there. Ed has the camera playing loop de loop so it won't show you, but you've only got ten minutes to swap places. Also, the door's locked, but it's not electronic, so you should be able to pick it._

"Thanks, Ed," Faye said. She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming down the hall, then pulled a bobby pin out of her pocket and knelt by the door. Faye had the lock picked in two minutes. That left her eight for the switch. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, not sure what to expect from inside.

She stepped into a dark room, lit only by pale blue lights on the walls. The corners of the room were in shadow and the shadows deepened as Faye slid the door shut behind her. She flipped the eye patch up and her eyes adjusted quickly. A haze of cigarette smoke hung near the ceiling and Faye quickly found its source.

Leon stood against the center of the back wall. The lights from the wall illuminated his chest and lower body, but his face was in shadow. His long legs were crossed, hands in his pockets, head tilted back and eyes closed. A cigarette sat between his lips, a thin trail of smoke swirling above his head. Burnt out cigarettes were scattered on the floor at his feet. In the dim light, he looked older and there were dark circles under his eyes, especially his right. He was breathing slow, steady, and still, the rise and fall of his chest the only movement in the dark space. The calm sense of predatory grace that surrounded him was the same feeling Faye had gotten from Spike the night he left to fight the Dragon. The feeling of a cornered wolf with nothing left to do but fight.

Faye cleared her throat.

Leon brought his head up and opened his eyes. He pulled one hand out of his pocket and took the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing smoke. He waited for it to clear.

"Leon...it's me," Faye finally said. She pulled off the eye patch and put it in her pocket.

Leon grunted, something between acknowledgment and anger. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and slid his hand in his pocket. He sighed and stared back up at the ceiling.

"What are you wearing?" he finally asked.

"One of Spike's old suits."

"Oh good, we match."

"That's the idea, genius," Faye snapped. She immediately regretted it, but she wasn't in the mood to take sass from Leon right now. She'd already taken heat from Jet and enough prickling from her own conscience. She'd known not to expect a warm welcome, but this dead sarcasm rubbed her nerves raw.

"Now we can declare everybody-dress-like-Spike-day," Leon said.

Faye frowned. Leon wasn't acting like his usual self and that scared her.

"So tell me something, Faye," he continued, his voice low, dangerous. "Do I look like  _him_?"

Faye took a cautious step forward. She felt like she was dealing with an injured wild animal and she wasn't sure if she expected Leon to collapse or attack. "What do you mean?" she asked carefully.

Leon blew a thin stream of smoke at the ceiling before answering. He tilted his head toward her again, letting the light fall across his face. Faye felt like his eyes drilled holes into her soul. "Look me in the eye, Faye. Am I your lost cowboy now?"

Faye took a deep breath even as she felt her stomach plummet. "No, Leon, they didn't…" She came closer. Leon didn't move except to keep his eyes trained on her. Faye stepped up to him and put a hand to his face, her fingers tracing his cheekbone beneath his right eye. Leon took a draw on his cigarette to hide his wince as her fingers brushed his face. She pulled back. That explained the discoloration around his eye. He let out a smoky breath.

"Leon, I'm so sorry," she gasped, her gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes. His ever-so-slightly different colored eyes.

"I thought you'd like it," he said stiffly. "After all, I'm Spike now, aren't I?"

Faye took her hand away. She felt tears prick her eyes. "I never wanted this."

Leon laughed bitterly. "No, you never wanted  _me_. Admit it, Faye. All you ever wanted is the one thing you couldn't have. You were right, that night on the  _Bebop._ You hate me."

Faye felt the hot sting of Leon's words like a bullet. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. There would be time for insults and apologies later. "Maybe I did once," she admitted, stepping back and sliding out of the trench coat. She pulled her makeup bag out of the pocket and set it on the floor. "But now I don't. And I am not going to let you die for my mistakes. I know I can't say anything to instantly fix what I did, so instead, I hope you'll at least think I'm trying to help when I tell you to put this on." She thrust the trench coat and fedora at Leon.

"What is this, Faye?"

"Your coat."

Leon glared at her.

"We're switching places so that you can get out of here. Now, hurry!"

Leon took the coat and hat in confusion, cigarette gripped in his teeth. Faye began tying her hair up in a ponytail. She pulled the wig out of her pocket and slipped it on. Then she procured a compact mirror from her shirt and made sure to tuck any stray strands of her own hair under the wig.

"How is this going to get me out of here?" he asked.

"Because I walked in here looking like a guy in a trench coat with a limp and a bum eye and you're going to walk out of here looking the same. If anyone stops you, tell them you're a Tiger lieutenant. Malcolm will back you up."

"Malcolm?"

"Yeah. He's undercover ISSP. He's how I got in and he'll help you out. I'm going to put on your suit coat and this wig and pretend that I'm you so that when the Syndicate goes to kill you, they'll get a nasty surprise instead."

Leon's eyes widened as he realized what Faye was doing. "But Faye, what if they-?"

"They won't," she cut him off, pulling at the collar of her shirt so that he could see the edge of the bullet-proof vest. "Now give me your coat." She held out her hand.

Leon ground his cigarette out under his shoe then shrugged out of his coat and handed it to Faye. His expression was softer now, not as hard and desperate as before. Faye thought he looked less hopeless, less likely to do something suicidal. Faye slid into Leon's coat then sat down by her make-up bag so she could spread her tools out on the floor. She began shading her face, adding angles and shadow to match Leon's haggard appearance, using her compact mirror to see herself. Leon slipped into the trench coat as she completed her look. She was adding the finishing touches to her right eye when Leon looked over at her from under the brim of the fedora.

"You know, I can't figure you out, Faye."

"Most people can't."

Leon frowned at her. "Something tells me that's your problem." He stuck his hands in the trench coat pockets and Faye was struck once more at Leon's resemblance to his father. But as she looked closer she saw for the first time how different Leon was too. There was a more mischievous tilt to his eyes, a higher quirk to his mouth. Under the bruising and some obvious attempts to create the illusion that Leon was older than he was, Faye realized for the first time how young and scared Leon looked. Like Spike, she knew he'd never openly admit to fear. Fear would just make him fight harder, run faster, talk tougher until he ran himself into the ground. She suddenly realized how much she'd put him through and how far he'd gone to try to make the  _Bebop_ home.

"We can talk about my problems when we have you back on the  _Bebop,"_ she said. "When you're safe. For now, you need to rendezvous with Jet and Malcolm. Here, take this." Faye pulled a wipe out of her makeup bag. "Wash your face off," she said. "Whoever did your makeup sucks."

Leon's mouth quirked up in the hint of a smile despite himself. "The distinguished Captain of the Guard," he said as he ran the wipe over his face a few times. The worst of the lines and shadows disappeared.

Faye snorted and shook her head. "Well, you look much better now," she said when he was done and the wipe looked more bruised than his face.

"Now, put this on." Faye handed him the black eyepatch from her pants pocket. "I had it on my left eye, but I don't suppose it matters much which one you cover up," she said. "I don't think too many people saw me well enough to remember which eye I covered."

He slipped it over his right eye. He didn't quite trust the cybernetic eye to be his only point of view yet. Faye nodded once, as if satisfied with his appearance, then pulled the receiver from her ear and passed it to Leon.

"Take this and talk to Jet when you get out of the room," she said. "He'll tell you where to go next."

Leon nodded and slipped the receiver in his ear with a grim expression. He paused, like he was going to say something else, but then something flickered behind his eyes and he seemed to change his mind. He walked toward the room's door. Right before he reached the door, he spoke again. He didn't turn around, but Faye could hear the hitch in his voice.

"What about Ed?" he asked softly.

"She's alive," Faye said. "And well. How do you think I got here without triggering every security alarm in the tower?"

She saw Leon's shoulders visibly relax and she thought she heard a sigh of relief.

"And Leon?" she said.

"Hmm?" he looked back over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. For everything. And I hope, someday, you'll let me make it up to you."

Leon paused for a long moment, but he didn't speak. He turned his face away and slipped out the door. The door clicked shut with an ominous sort of finality and Faye was left sitting alone in the small room, the only sound in the quiet space the thudding of her heart against her rib cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I got towards the end of this story, it got harder to decide whose perspective to do each chapter from. This one was a tough choice because it's Faye and Leon's first face-to-face encounter since the disaster at The Ares (and coincidentally, Leon's first contact with someone from the Bebop too). I decided to go with Faye's perspective so I had a good chance to describe Leon from the outside, since a lot of what happened at the Tower so far has been his internal thoughts. Hopefully his confusion and anger are evident here, but there's also that side of him that's relieved he's not going to be left in the Tower after all - even if it is Faye who came to the rescue. Of course, he's back "on screen" in upcoming chapters, so we dive into his head again later.


	32. Session Thirty Two

Leon left the room feeling confused and nervous and upside-down. He wasn't trapped in a tiny room waiting on death anymore, but he still wasn't free. And his rescuer was none other than the one who'd put him here in the first place. He wanted to hate Faye for all she'd done. But her crazy act of trading places with him made him think she actually regretted it. Either that or she was the deepest double agent Leon had ever seen. Somehow, he doubted Faye had that much acting skill though. Despite all her lies and her tricks and her attempts at pretending she didn't care, Faye wore her heart on her sleeve. Leon just wasn't sure what that meant.

Leon attempted to retrace his steps from a few hours before, but he didn't remember which way Draugh brought him. He cursed himself for not paying attention, but he hadn't expected to see these halls alive again. Now that the prospect of sudden death was wearing off, Leon felt the nervous energy of adrenaline return. With every step, his heart beat faster as he convinced himself that whatever scheme Jet, Faye, and Ed cooked up would work.

Right, Jet. He'd almost forgotten the receiver in his ear. Faye told him to com Jet. Jet could tell him how to get out of these halls and back to the main part of the Tower. After he calmed his nerves enough to make sure they wouldn't show up in his voice, he spoke.

"Jet, you there?" he asked.

There was a crackle in his ear.  _You don't know how glad I am to hear your voice, kid._

Leon let the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile. "I'm glad to hear yours too, Jet." Then he nearly jumped as a louder crackle sounded in his ear and Ed shouted through the earpiece,  _LEO! FAYE FAYE FOUND YOU!_ Leon instinctively reached to cover his ears before realizing it would do him no good.

"Hi, Ed," Leon said, feeling his knees go weak in relief. Faye told the truth. Ed was alive and, if her yelling was anything to go by, she was fine. "Glad you're ok."

_Me too,_  Ed said.

Leon chuckled. "Good. Now how do I get out of here?"

_Just take the hallway to the door at the end,_ Ed chirped.

"Thanks, Ed. But I meant the Tower." Leon started walking down the hall as he talked.

_That's the sticky part,_ Jet said. " _Because I can't get the Bebop close enough to extract you guys with the Tower defenses still up. They'll shoot me down before I can get within a block._

"So we're trapped," Leon said.

_I didn't say that_.

"Ok, then what's the plan?"

_We make a distraction and when everybody's looking the other way, Ed takes the Tower defenses offline. Then I bring the Bebop in and we make our retreat._

"Let me guess, Faye's the distraction."

_Hey, she asked for this part. She wanted to trade places with you because she put you there._

"She told me," Leon said, his voice strangely thick. He cleared his throat.

_But it's also the only distraction we could think of that would guarantee Villanova and all her security guards will be looking the other way while we crash their party._

"But what if they kill Faye?" Leon murmured. He'd come to the end of the hall and he opened the door, slipping out into another hall that was clearly part of the main tower. Leon looked back to see that he'd come out of the employee door.

_They won't kill her, kid,_ Jet said, tone final.

"But if they do?"

There was a long moment of silence on the other end.

_We won't let them kill her,_ Jet finally said.

"And Villanova?" Leon asked.

_What about her?_

"We can't just slip away and let her go free."

_That's where I come in_ , a new voice spoke over the com.

"Malcolm, I presume," Leon said.

_That's me_ , the voice confirmed.  _I just finished talking with Captain Gunnel and ISSP is on their way as we speak. They'll take care of Villanova._

Leon was silent for a minute. "Forgive me if I don't trust them to do that."

He heard both Jet and Malcolm sigh.

_Kid, don't do anything -_

"Don't do anything what?" Leon interrupted. "Anything rash? Anything you wouldn't do?"

_\- anything you'll regret,_ Jet finished.

"Like what? Shoot Villanova?" Leon felt unexpected anger course through him. Anger at Villanova for mistreating him. Anger at Jet for sounding so rational. Anger at Faye for putting him in this mess in the first place. Anger at Malcolm for making this sound so simple.

He heard Jet sigh again.  _Look, kid, let's take this one step at a time. You don't even have a gun. So, you need to meet up with Malcolm. Ed will get you to him. She's scrambling the cameras now so that nobody can see you. Just follow her instructions._

Leon looked up and down the hall he stood in. He could see a set of stairs to his right, leading down to the floor below and, to his left, the hall took a corner turn deeper into the Tower. Belatedly, he realized that there was something in Jet's voice that sounded...defeated. Like he knew something was coming he couldn't stop. Like he wanted to say more to Leon but he couldn't find the words. "Yeah. Ok," Leon agreed slowly. He looked back over at the staircase.

"But first I'm going to take a little detour."

He pulled the receiver out of his ear and put it in his pocket. Then he slipped down the stairs.

* * *

"Damn him!" Jet yelled as Leon went off the grid.

Ed stared up at Jet with wide eyes. It wasn't that she'd never heard Jet curse before. It was just that she'd never seen him this angry before.

"Jet, you don't mean that!" she said.

"Don't I?" Jet ran a hand over his head and took a deep breath. "Why'd you have to go and have a cheeky bastard for a son, partner?" he murmured.

He could almost hear Spike laugh in response.  _That's it,_ Jet thought.  _I'm officially going crazy._

"Jet, are you talking to yourself?" Ed asked. She swiveled in her chair at the console on the  _Bebop's_ bridge and looked at Jet closely, pulling her goggles up on her forehead.

Jet shook his head, his mouth a tight line.

"Memories, memories, memories," Ed said. "Ghosts and haunts," she trailed off into a whisper.

"Yeah," Jet said.

Ed unfolded herself from her chair, only wincing a little as she felt the bandages wrapped around her stomach shift. She padded over to Jet where he sat staring down at the Shogi table and wrapped her arms around him in a hug from behind. Jet stiffened, surprised by the act, then he sniffed.

"It's ok to cry, Jet," Ed said.

"Men don't cry, Ed," Jet denied.

"Real men do." Ed came around beside Jet and leaned over so she could look him in the face. "But Ed won't tell Faye Faye or Leo." She winked.

Jet scrubbed a hand over his face. "Thanks, Ed." His voice was gruff, but his eyes were dry.

"Right!" Ed smiled. "Now, don't worry about Leo. Ed can still see him. Sneaky, sneaky, try to hide. I spy, I spy!" Ed skipped back over to Tomato and the other three computers she had spread around the console and clicked a few buttons. "With my little eye!" She pointed triumphantly at a screen showing the position of the receivers in the Dragon Tower. They showed up on the screen as red dots inside a vaguely human outline. One paced back and forth in front of a door on the seventh floor. That was Malcolm. The other moved through the halls heading further down into the tower. That was Leon. But this electronic signature had another little red blip on his form, near his eye.

"Ed, what's that?" Jet asked, pointing at the red blip hovering inside the outline of Leon's head.

"That's Spike person," Ed said.

"What?" Jet jumped up and ran over to Tomato, as if he could see more than just outlines and schematics.

"Spike person," Ed said again, winking her right eye.

"No, that's...Leon," Jet said. "Wait, are you telling me that he's got a cybernetic eye, like Spike?"

Ed nodded, her goggles flopping off her forehead and falling to dangle around her neck.

"He hasn't always had a cybernetic eye," Jet murmured, his tone almost questioning. Faye declared he didn't, back when they first met Leon. And as far as Jet could recall, the kid's eyes were the same color, not the slightly different shades Spike's had been.

Ed shook her head, looking suddenly serious.

Jet felt hot anger settle in his stomach. If the Dragon had torn out Leon's eye and given him a cybernetic one, then it was no wonder the kid was wound for a fight. The Dragon had done more to turn Leon into Spike than they knew. They'd awakened his stubborn pride and an angry streak about a mile wide. There was no way Leon would back down from this one. Now that he was free, he'd take the fight to Villanova. Because this was personal.

If only Spike could see his son now. He'd be proud.

"So, what now, Jet?" Ed asked.

"We stick to the plan," Jet said. "And hope we get our rogue agent back before he gets himself killed."

Ed put her goggles back on, looking determined. "Ed will get him back alive." She held three fingers up in the air. "Malcolm, Ed's got somewhere you should go right now."

* * *

Jet was right. He couldn't shoot Villanova without a gun. He needed a weapon. If only he knew where they'd stashed his Jericho. Why couldn't Draugh have given him his gun back instead of his lighter? Leon smirked. Why was it that when he only had fire to play with, it wouldn't do him any good?

He fingered the receiver in his pocket. Jet would be mad at him for going silent, but he also knew Jet wouldn't let him deviate from the plan without arguing. Perhaps he should have listened to the plan first. Maybe Malcolm had a gun for him. But it was too late to turn around now. Besides, the hallways were pretty empty right now, and he wasn't about to hide and wait for Jet to come get him while the Syndicates were all sitting ducks. It shouldn't take long to find a weapon in the Dragon Tower. He'd get a gun and be back for Jet's plan before anything went wrong. Now all he needed was a map…

Suddenly he felt a shift in his eye and he stopped walking. Although he didn't feel like he'd be sick this time, he grit his teeth against the unusual sensation as he flipped the eye patch up off his right eye. He gasped. The HUD display was back, overlaying everything that he looked at, but instead of magnifying things, this time he saw a floor plan laid out in front of him. Leon staggered back, blinking and the floor plan disappeared.

This was way more than just a cybernetic eye. What had the Dragon done to him? Did Spike's eye do this kind of stuff? How many different things did this eye do? Did the Dragon give him these abilities on purpose? Something told him they didn't. The doctor had bragged that he'd like this new eye once he got used to what it could do. Perhaps it was all an accident? Leon couldn't see Villanova handing him such a tactical advantage on purpose. The pieces didn't add up and it made Leon uneasy, but he shoved his doubts aside and thought about a map again. The floor plan returned. He swapped the eye patch over to his left eye and headed deeper into the tower, following the schematic that overlayed his vision.

According to his schematic, the sixth floor was full of crew housing and he was pretty sure he'd be able to find a gun in somebody's room. He was also reasonably certain that he wouldn't run into very many crew members, because they would all be on guard, making sure he didn't escape. Well, they'd already failed that job. Besides, if anybody found him, he would claim to be lost and just let them take him back to wherever the Syndicates were gathered. Faye had told him he was a Tiger lieutenant after all.

Leon walked up to the first door and blinked, allowing his map to disappear. To his surprise, he found the door unlocked. He gave it a push, and it swung open into a small room that reminded Leon of his room at the orphanage. There were four bunk beds pushed against the walls with lockers spaced between the bunks. From the look of the room, seven of the bunks were occupied, having clothes and other personal effects strewn across them. He rummaged through the beds and anything that was lying out in the open, but didn't see a gun. He didn't have time to search each room thoroughly, so he moved on to the next room.

Leon worked his way down the hall, slipping into any of the rooms that were open and searching for a gun. He finally found a pistol in the third room from the end of the hall, lying on a table halfway dismantled, as if it's owner were summoned to another job while cleaning it. Leon put the gun back together in a few minutes and grabbed the scattered ammunition lying on the table top as well. He only found seven bullets, but that would have to do for now. He only needed one to kill Villanova. He put the bullets and the pistol in his pocket just as an arm snaked out of nowhere and a hand clamped over his mouth.

Leon didn't try to yell. If a Dragon member had stumbled in on him, then it would be best to take care of them quickly and quietly, so he didn't raise any alarms. Leon lashed out with an elbow, trying to catch his attacker off guard with a blow to the stomach, but his attacker simply slid to the side and tried to twist Leon's arm behind his back. Leon pulled his arm away and wrenched his head free of his attacker's hand. His attacker tangled a foot between his legs and twisted him off balance. Leon found himself spun around to face a young man with stern brown eyes, completely off balance and only standing because of the iron grip the man had on the front of his trench coat.

"Let go of me," Leon hissed.

"Fine." His assailant did just that and Leon toppled backwards, arms pinwheeling as he tried to catch his balance. He ended up sitting down hard on the floor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, boy?" the man demanded.

"Who the hell are you?" Leon countered.

"Malcolm Redd. And you must be Leon."

"Oh, the police friend."

"You could call me that," Malcolm said, looking amused. "But first you should put your earpiece back in and apologize to Ed."

"Apologize to Ed?" Leon asked.

"For making her keep up with your half-crazed march through the Tower. We're not invisible, you know. She's scrambling the cameras as we move, so it makes it much easier on her if you tell her where you're going before you take off."

Leon felt like he was being chastised. "Oh yeah? Then what are you doing down here?" He picked himself up off the floor.

"Following Ed's directions to find you."

Leon had the good grace to look chagrined.

"What are  _you_  doing down here?" Malcolm asked, crossing his arms.

"Getting this," Leon pulled the pistol out of the pocket of his trench coat.

"And just what do you plan to do with that?" Malcolm demanded.

"Same thing you plan to do with that, I imagine," Leon said, pointing at the edge of Malcolm's own gun, which had been revealed in their little scuffle.

Malcolm straightened his jacket to hide the gun again. "Touché, Mr. Spiegel. Now, if you're quite done deviating here," Malcolm cast a glance at a watch on his left wrist, "we should get upstairs now. Villanova's going to reveal Faye in about two minutes. And I think we might want to be present."

"Oh crap," Leon said, going a shade paler.

Malcolm didn't wait for an answer, but lengthened his stride and led the way upstairs, Leon following right behind.


	33. Session Thirty Three

Villanova sat on her throne and smiled. She watched the two sweaty men below  fight each other in a drug-induced rage. Everything was going according to plan. Draugh had returned about fifteen minutes ago, giving her the sign that everything was set. Shortly before he'd come back, one of the Tiger lieutenant's girlfriends had gotten sick and he'd hastily escorted her out of the room. According to the security feed from Servas, the lieutenant was still pacing outside the bathroom waiting on his girl. At least he'd had the decency to look suitably embarrassed as he hurried her out of the hall. But besides that minor distraction, Villanova had the Syndicates' undivided attention.

Or, rather, her demonstration had their undivided attention. She'd picked two men well-known for their strength and ruthlessness from her ranks. One man had been given Red Eye, the other Dragon's Eye and then the two had been set loose at each other. Villanova told the fighters beforehand not to hold back and the two men were doing an admirable job. Their fight was a wild rage of punches and kicks almost too fast to follow. Both men had taken hits throughout the fight and now they faced each other warily, circling again and wiping blood from their faces.

Villanova smiled as the Dragon's Eye champion suddenly rushed his opponent and threw him to the floor. The Red Eye champion struggled beneath the other man, but the Dragon's Eye champion was stronger. Villanova could see the raw rage in his eyes even from here. He held his opponent beneath him, hands at his throat as the Red Eye champion struggled to breathe, his punches and struggles growing weaker by the second. Many of the other Syndicate members were on their feet, watching the fight with rapt attention. In short order, the fight was over, the Red Eye champion lying motionless on the floor. Whether he was dead or alive was inconsequential. Villanova had proved her point. She let the Dragon's Eye champion parade around the ring for a while, raising his fists in triumph and roaring his anger at the crowd. She saw a few of the members in the front row seats draw back involuntarily.

_Good,_ she smiled.  _They were afraid._

At a subtle nod, a few security guards stepped into the center of the room and removed the two fighters. It took three men to subdue the Dragon's Eye champion, and in the end, they tranquilized him and carried him out of the room.

Villanova stood, raising her hands for silence. When the room quieted and everyone was seated again, she spoke. "Ladies and Gentlemen, while the guards take our good fighters to the recovery rooms," she smiled, flashing white teeth, "I have one last display for you all today. As marvelous as the Dragon's Eye is, it's not my crowning achievement."

Murmurs ran through the crowd, and she saw a few Syndicate members wearing frowns or looks of skepticism.

"I know you all must be tiring of sitting in your seats, even with such exciting entertainment, so I hope you'll all give our next guest a standing welcome. But before I introduce him, I'd like to give a little history."

She heard a few groans from the crowd.

She laughed. "No, no," she held up her hands for silence again. "Nothing like what my esteemed historian gave you earlier. Just a quick reminder." She took a breath.

The room settled, all eyes on her.

"Fifteen years ago to the day," she began, "this Tower nearly fell. Some of you were here. Some of you watched. And some of you laughed. You all know what I'm talking about."

"The Death of the Dragon!" someone called out triumphantly. Villanova looked to the back of the room and locked eyes with the young Tiger lieutenant who'd slipped out with his girlfriend before. When had he come back in?

"Precisely," she said, giving him a hard stare. He gave her a lazy grin in return. She continued. "And you all know that this tower was reduced to a ruin and that the man responsible for this walked out of the tower and disappeared into legend."

"Spike is dead!" This time it was a Snake member who challenged her. "Everyone knows that!"

"But do they?" Villanova asked. "What if we all believed he was dead because that is what he wanted us to believe? What if he played us all for fools? Those of you old enough to remember will recall that he did this once before - to leave the very Syndicate he destroyed."

There were murmurs of agreement around the room as younger Syndicate members asked older members if this was true.

"Asheteko! Carevelli!" she called out to the Snake and Tiger leaders. "You remember this, do you not?"

The two men gave nods of agreement. "That's right," Carevelli said. "The bastard had a nasty habit of not staying dead."

"So then what are you saying, Villanova?" somebody else yelled.

"I'm saying," Villanova's smile widened as she paused for dramatic effect. "That I've apprehended Spike Spiegel."

Exclamations of outrage and disbelief erupted around the room. Villanova raised her hands for silence again. Eventually the room quieted. "Ladies and Gentleman, I have done the impossible. I caught the man who plagued the Syndicates with his impudence and betrayal for years. I finally brought him to justice and I will make him pay for his crimes against the Dragon. Today, the fifteenth anniversary of our tragic fall, will mark a rise to power that no one has ever seen before. My gathered friends, I present, for your viewing pleasure, the execution of none other than Spike Spiegel!"

Villanova pointed at the floor in the center of the seats, where moments ago the two drugged men fought. The lights in the ballroom dimmed until only the crystal chandelier high on the eighth floor shed it's light on the center of the room. The floor opened up, panels sliding back seamlessly to reveal a rising platform on which a single figure stood. A slim figure, wearing a dark blue suit with a yellow shirt and a thin black tie. He had his head down, but that shaggy mop of hair was as unmistakable as the confidence in his pose, despite the conditions. He held his hands in his pockets, his shoulders at a carefree angle, a gesture his former associates knew well. The platform rose to the level of the ballroom floor, and then eased to a stop. The figure atop it kept his feet effortlessly, swaying with the motion of the platform as it settled. The room was dead silent. There were no whispered questions, no accusations, nothing. No one spoke.

He stayed standing, head down, hands in his pockets. But there was something...different about the figure. Villanova cast a glance over at Draugh. He was staring hard at the figure too, as if something weren't quite right. No matter, Villanova dismissed it as nerves. Of course he would look a little different. Servas had altered his face earlier anyway. That was all. Villanova reached down beside her throne. She pulled a long, slender blade from the floor beside her. A blade that had as much Dragon history as the legend she was about to kill. She stood and walked to the edge of the platform, then descended the three short steps to the floor in a fluid motion, striding up to the figure.

She drew the sword with a long hiss, the whisper of steel and death.

She leveled the sword at the figure's neck. He seemed shorter than normal.

"Any last words for us, Mr. Spiegel?" she asked.

Then the figure raised her head. Those eyes! Those green eyes. Not brown. Not two subtly different shades.

"Yeah, just a few," Faye said, loud enough for the room to hear. She pulled the wig off and let it fall to the floor, her own black hair falling loose around her shoulders. "I'm not Spike."

And suddenly the entire room was on their feet, accusations and demands flying through the air like arrows.

"What are you trying to pull?"

"That's not Spike!"

"Who is this woman?"

"Are you saying Spike's a girl?!"

"Explain yourself, Villanova!"

"ENOUGH!" Villanova shouted over everyone. Her voice was clear and angry. The tip of her sword swayed back and forth in front of Faye's neck as rage shook her body. "Where is Mr. Spiegel, Ms. Valentine?" she demanded in a low voice.

Faye shrugged. "How should I know? He hasn't talked to me much since I sold him out."

"That's a damn lie and you know it. If you're here in his place, then you know where he is now." She lowered the point of the sword until it rested over Faye's heart. Faye gave it a wary eye.

"Far, far away from here," she said. "Somewhere you'll never find him, no matter how hard you look, Villanova. You can search the galaxy for the rest of your life and you'll never get Leon. He's too clever for that."

"Then is he also too clever for this, I wonder?" Villanova lunged with the sword, straight at Faye. Faye yelped in surprise and dodged to the side. It was only the bulletproof vest that saved her life. The sword struck at an angle against one of the panels in the vest and slid off Faye's chest, tearing a gash in her jacket and shirt, but not through the vest itself.

"So, you came prepared for this?" Villanova raised an eyebrow.

Faye backed away.

Villanova prepared to lunge a second time when a voice suddenly shouted out from the eighth floor balcony.

"Villanova! Stop right there!"

Villanova paused, mid-lunge and looked upward, a smile spreading across her features. Faye face-palmed.

Because perched on the balcony railing like he didn't have a care in the world, was none other than the man of the evening. Leon Spiegel.


	34. Session Thirty Four

If the situation wasn't so dire, Leon would have laughed at how ridiculous everybody looked. Villanova stood in the center of the room, sword extended, weight on her forward leg. Faye stood in Spike's ripped shirt, head in her hands. Draugh stood on the platform in the back of the room, something between surprise and a smirk on his face. The other Syndicate members were all frozen in positions of outrage or shock, pointing at Leon or Villanova. The room was frozen in time, like Leon haphazardly posed a bunch of life-size action figures. Might as well drop a bomb on it.

"My name is Leon Spiegel!" Leon shouted, his voice carrying across the ballroom. He pulled off the fedora and eyepatch so everyone could see him clearly. He swung one leg carelessly over the ballroom below, the other propped on the railing. He rested his arm against his updrawn knee, pointing his stolen gun idly at Villanova. "The son of Spike and Julia. I'm the one you want to kill!"

Time started moving again and the room became a seething mass of questions and accusations and angry Syndicate members. Dragon guards poured into the ballroom below and Leon sincerely hoped that Ed had been able to remotely lock all the eighth floor entrances in time. But since no one grabbed him from behind, he figured he was safe for now. He kept an eye on the staircase behind the platform though, just in case someone tried to come up that way.

"This is some sort of trap!" Malcolm leapt out of his seat on the floor below, accusing Villanova as he and Leon hurriedly planned before they slipped back into the ballroom. "Villanova got us all here to distract us and make sure she eliminated her competition. This is all just a hoax!"

Shouts of agreement ran around the room. Faye took the opportunity to surreptitiously edge out of the center of the room. Fights broke out as several Syndicate members tried to flee the room and Dragon guards tried to stop them.

"How's it going, Ed?" Leon muttered under his breath.

 _Just give Edward thirty more seconds,_ she said.

Leon took a deep breath. "So, what are you waiting for, Villanova? Are you going to kill me? Or are you worried I'll shoot first?" He steadied his arm against his knee so the gun pointed at Villanova's chest.

She looked around at the chaos her grand plan had become.

"Stop, you fools!" she shouted. "Can't you see that this is what he wants? He wants chaos so we can't fight back. Idiots!" she roared, pulling a pistol from an inside pocket of her coat.

Leon threw himself backwards off the balcony railing a second before Villanova fired. He ducked behind the balcony wall as a bullet pinged off the railing above his head. He needed a distraction. Leon looked around the balcony, then up at the ceiling - there! A slow smile spread across his face. He risked a peek over the railing. A bullet whipped by so close that it grazed his cheek. Leon hissed and ducked back down, wiping blood from the stinging cut. But he saw what he needed to. Faye had backed out of the center of the room. He spun around, careful to keep his head lower than the balcony wall, and aimed up, at the bolts keeping the giant crystal chandelier anchored in the ceiling. He shot once, twice, three times and was rewarded by an ominous creak overhead. He heard Villanova shout and then the chandelier ripped free of its mangled bolts and crashed to the floor in a rain of metal and sparks. Leon jumped back as it fell, wincing as he realized he hit something electrical. A few stray sparks floated down around him and he brushed them off his coat before they could catch.

Leon risked another glance over the balcony rail. This time there were no shots. The chandelier lay in a shattered heap on the floor, embers smoldering around the shattered crystal. Some of the chairs in the room caught fire, while other sparks winked out when they hit metal or the polished floor. The rest of the room was a chaotic mass exodus of Tiger, Snake, and Dragon members alike. No one wanted to stick around for the finale anymore. Of Villanova, there was no sign. But the elevator leading to the prison below was lowered. The floor panels lay half-open and bent under the chandelier. Leon cursed under his breath. Villanova must've activated the elevator when she realized what he was doing. There was no sign of Draugh in the room either, but Leon caught a glimpse of Faye and Malcolm slipping out a door behind the staircase.

Just then, the Tower was rocked by an even bigger crash. It sounded like it came from a few floors above. Leon instinctively ducked as he felt the floor under his feet shudder. Alarms blared through the building, adding their claxon clamor to the yelling.

"What was that?" someone shouted.

"It sounded like an explosion!"

The remainder of the room evacuated even faster, running each other over in the panic to escape. Leon took that as his cue to beat a hasty retreat.

"Ed, open the doors!"

 _They're open!_ she said.  _Something went kablooie and Ed doesn't have the seventh and eighth floors anymore._

"Oops," Leon muttered. He turned and dashed across the floor to the nearest door. He yanked it open and ran out into the hall, where he almost collided with a wide-eyed Faye.

"Faye!" he exclaimed.

"Hey," she said. "Did you feel that?"

"You mean the crash?" Leon asked. "How could I not?"

"Of course. You don't think…?" she trailed off.

 _Leon, you copy?_ Jet's voice come over his receiver.

Leon held up a finger to Faye. "Yeah, I copy."

_Good, meet us on the eleventh floor, will ya? Your ride's here._

"Ten-four, Jet," Leon said.

"What did he say?" Faye asked.

"He said our ride is on the eleventh floor," Leon said with a puzzled expression on his face.

"What? He didn't," Faye scowled. "Do you know how much the repair bill for that will cost us, you lunkhead?" she yelled at the ceiling like Jet could hear her through the floors.

"You mean, that crash was Jet?"

Faye looked over at Leon. "What else did you think it was? Now c'mon, we need to get moving!"

Faye took off down the hall like she knew where she was going and Leon followed.

"Where's our friend Malcolm?" Leon asked as they ran.

"With ISSP!" Faye yelled over the sound of the alarms.

"They actually came?"

 _You're damn right we did,_ Malcolm said in Leon's ear, his voice ringing with pride.  _You guys get yourselves out of here. We'll take care of rounding up the Syndicates. Nobody's getting out of the Tower without us knowing. We've already caught the Tiger leader and several Dragon and Snake members._

"Well, color me impressed," Leon muttered under his breath.

He and Faye passed a few running figures in the hall, but they all seemed more intent on getting out of the building than stopping Leon or Faye. The two rounded a corner and Faye led them up a staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. Leon followed easily, his stride longer than Faye's. They burst out onto the ninth floor and sprinted down the curving hallway for the next staircase. Leon cursed the tower's design - while it looked fancy, it didn't do much for anyone trying to escape. This part of the tower became circular again, running around the open area Leon had glimpsed from the eleventh floor. The hallways curved around an open space in the center, decorated with ornamental wooden panels interspaced with colored tiles. A decorative glass panel about waist height circled the inside of the hallways, separating them from the center section. Leon and Faye sprinted around the edge of the floor.

"Stop where you are!" A shout rang out behind them.

Leon and Faye kept running, but a shot rang out behind them. Faye let out a grunt as the bullet slammed into her from behind and sent her staggering to the floor. Leon slid to a stop and turned back for her. Her vest had once again saved her life, but now a squad of angry Dragon men advanced down the hall toward them, guns at the ready. At their head was the stern red-headed Captain of the Guard. Leon stepped out in front of Faye and shot two of the Dragon men. He cursed as his first shot missed, but his second found it's mark in the other man's leg. He didn't aim for the chest, figuring that the guards might have body armor. The second man fell, clutching at his knee.

"Stop right there, Servas!" Leon shouted, wishing that he had more bullets.

"Or what?" Servas asked, an amused tilt to her mouth. But she signaled her remaining three men to stop. "You'll shoot us? You're welcome to try."

Leon held his gun trained on Servas. He didn't trust her. Behind him, Faye staggered breathlessly to her feet.

"Why don't you put that down, boy, before someone gets killed?" Servas asked.

"If I put it down, I'm going to get killed," Leon said.

Servas tilted her head as if listening to something Leon couldn't hear.

 _Don't get yourself killed, kid. I'm on my way,_ Jet said. He sounded like he was running.

"Not yet," Servas said. "Villanova wants to reserve that right for herself. But she didn't say anything about your friend there." Servas gestured at Faye.

"Oh, no, we are not playing this game again!" Leon said through gritted teeth.

"What are you doing?" Faye hissed in his ear.

"Getting you out of here," Leon responded.

"Hell, no! I came into this damn Tower to get  _you_  out!"

"Are you done with your little conference?" Servas asked, crossing her arms, like she was watching an amusing play.

"We sure are!" Leon shouted and he shot twice more, both at Servas. Even with her steely resolve, she flinched as one of the bullets pounded into her shoulder, the other flying past her.

"RUN!" Leon yelled, grabbing Faye and pushing her in front of him while Servas was distracted. He shoved Faye at the glass barrier and she took the hint and vaulted it, Leon right behind. They sprinted across the center of the floor.

"Now!" Servas yelled.

Leon heard an unmistakable  _clink_  behind him and looked back just in time to see a grenade falling through the air toward him and Faye. He threw himself forward, tackling Faye and covering her with his body as he knocked her to the ground. A few seconds later, Leon heard the grenade hit the floor and an explosion once again rocked the tower. Luckily, he'd thrown himself and Faye far enough to be out of the worst of the shrapnel and they covered their heads as dust and debris settled around them from a now gaping hole in the floor.

Leon glanced over his shoulder. Servas and her men had also taken defensive positions on the other side of the now-shattered glass barrier, but the hole stood between them, looking down into the ballroom two stories below like some sort of jagged window. Smoke curled from the edges of the hole.

"Ha! Servas, you missed!" Leon shouted. "C'mon, Faye, let's go." He said, standing up and offering Faye a hand.

But as he stepped back to get the leverage to pull Faye to her feet, the floor give way under his foot. Leon met Faye's eyes with an expression of terrified surprise as he fell to one knee on the sloping floor.

"No!" Faye shouted, reaching for him as he slid back toward the hole.

"Get out of here, Faye!" Leon yelled as the floor creaked alarmingly under him. Something else gave way, and he slipped back several inches. His hands scrabbled for purchase on broken tiles and wood, but everything he reached for crumbled or broke under his grip.

On the other side of the hole, Servas stood, brushing dust off her uniform and frowning down at the blood blossoming on her shoulder. "I do believe that I hit my mark, after all, Mr. Spiegel." She stepped forward and raised her gun.

"No!" Faye shouted again, lunging for Leon.

Servas laughed and pointed her gun down at the floor, shooting it into a weakened beam running across the hole. It was the last straw. The last bit of flooring crumbled and fell just as Faye's fingertips brushed Leon's, but it was too late. He didn't even have a chance to shout as he plunged into the ballroom below.


End file.
